The Price of Freedom
by AshadelMG
Summary: Ashadel had a life that any high elf would expect of their heritage. In a moment of fleeting terror, Arthas tears through Quel'thalas and starts an adventure that will teach the flighty female the value of strength, friendship, and perseverance.
1. Chapter 1

_**AN:** Price of Freedom was an experiment for me. Really, I was trying to see if I could take on the challenge of making a story that was more than just a few chapters. I centered it around a character that I had rolled but had little desire to play, and I figured that if I could create a reason for her to exist, maybe I would play her more._

_What had started as just a small challenge for me snowballed into something that was kept alive by people prodding me, bringing me into their stories and worlds, and helping my character grow in ways that I didn't completely think would happen at the first. In the course of the year it took to write this (I started in September of 2009, and the final chapter was posted September 2010), I made many friends, and had the joy of not only watching my character grow, but myself as well._

_This was my first attempt at a long story. That said, there are some inconsistencies with the lore surrounding the characters, and some things that make very little sense. I have taken the reviews from my first posting of this to heart and have applied them to my current project (By Fang and Spell), but Price of Freedom will forever remain my precious project that I poured my heart and soul into. It will be the one that I have learned the most from, and will continue to grow beyond. I am not afraid to say that I made mistakes, nor that I took liberties with how some things might work._

_With all of that out of the way, I must put a warning on this particular story. This is not a story for children or those who are easily triggered. The content of this story can be, at times, incredibly brutal and graphic. I left very little to the imagination on purpose, because I wanted people to feel for the characters in a way that I couldn't do normally. This story includes sex (though I have removed most of the fanservice...), both in consent and non-consent form. There is mutilation and death. There is romance and jealousy. There is irrational behavior and sanity. There is mental, physical and emotional abuse. I really cannot stress enough that this is _not_ a story for those looking for the bright and bubbly._

_Still, it is my hope that others will enjoy this story in their own way. That's all I truly want._

_~ Jessica Grammer_

* * *

Silvermoon was alive even at the early hours of the morning, when the sun had not yet pulled its way over the towers and spires that the blood elves were so proud of. In darkened corners, drunken males courted chained succubi, and traders made quick with their auctions of dangerous tomes, forbidden reagents, and soft flesh. One could find anything they desired along the streets of Murder Row, provided they had what was required.

Even the catacombs beneath the city, an area unknown but to few, there was activity. Gentle snores could be heard from behind doors, the rooms inhabitants cradled in their own seperate dreams like children during Winter's Veil. In these halls resided those in the Cult, and it was there where Ashadel rested, curled up atop a chair that she had pulled into one corner of the large main room. A softly glowing blue orb hung above the female, the only light in the long empty room.

Her eyes were closed, knees hugged to her chest as she dozed, for that was clearly what she was doing. No peaceful sleep like those behind the locked doors, no soft dressing gowns or elegant robes; just hand-tooled leather that embraced a figure of average size and proportion, rich red hair cropped to just beneath her jaw falling over one eye, her pale skin looking almost sickly beneath the blue hue of the orb's light.

It was that orb that brought the woman from her doze, the light increasing as it dropped in front of her nose and bobbed there until it was snatched in a blur of motion. Ashadel waited for a moment, opening one fel-green eye before releasing the orb, which only seemed to resume it's bobbing after moving out of arms reach. Slender ears twitched, listening to the darkened halls before she unfolded herself and stretched, her back arching as she glanced towards the bed-quarters.

"S'pose it's time to go, hmm?" The orb pulsed in response, bobbing as if nodding. "Fine. I'll go then. Stay near Master's room, will you? Don't go near the tea kettle, either." The last words were more of a grumble as she stood, blinking in the sudden darkness that surrounded her as the orb blinked out of sight. She took a moment to adjust, crouching beside the chair and pulling a tunic and leggings made from grey cloth from her satchel, one hand already working the ties of the tunic she had slept in.

Neela's orb caught her attention, blinking a few times down the corridor it had disappeared. Her eyes rolled when she realized the message it was trying to send. Having found the wrong room, it was describing the tauren bull that had been initiated earlier in the evening, and was seemingly amusing itself by describing just how little his loincloth really covered.

Ashadel muttered something about perverts as she straightened, drawing her tabard and then her tunic up and over her head, fingers sliding along the silken fabric of the first before she set it on the chair and made with taking off her leggings.

The orb had been her sister's, a gift from her father at her coming of age ceremony. Where Ash had received her own elven horse, her frail younger sister had been gifted with an item that was not only brimming with magic, but would easily be able to alert her mother and father in the event something had gone wrong. Neither of them had ever bothered asking exactly what the orb was. In their childish years, it was enough for it to just be theirs.

The memories of her family brought a sad smile to her lips as she pulled the cloth tunic over her head, pausing as she heard something move in the area near her. Eye narrowed, she stared at the spot before pulling the cloth leggings up and over her shapely rear and hips, tucking the tunic in and securing it all with a black sash. Her hand reached for the tabard that had become almost a necessary staple for her attire in the last few days, but with a shake of her head she withdrew and left it folded on the chair.

"Blue." Her whispered word was answered by the orb as it blinked back into existence above her head, bobbing and swaying like a child rocking on their heels. "You're to stay out of sight, is that clear? No peeking in on anyone, and no causing trouble. In fact, forget the Master. I want you to stay right here, and guard these." She gestured a hand to the tabard, her satchel, and swords that had been propped against the wall. "Am I understood?" The orb blinked again, that happy bobbing halting as it lowered a bit, seeming almost sad. The rogue shook her head, still looking stern. Defeated, the orb disappeared, in a fit of ghostly blue light.

"Tempermental piece of magic..." Ash grumbled as she made her way out of the catacombs, sticking to the shadows as she came up level to the streets of Silvermoon. In the pre-dawn hours, the city was as dangerous to a woman walking alone as being a rabbit in front of a starving bear was. Ash sucked in her breath as a succubus strode by with a male on a leash, the demon smirking coyly at the rogue that had attempted to hide in the street corners.

"Come play with us, darling?" The succubus practically oozed with ill intent, crooking a finger towards the woman while the leashed male kept his gaze on his captor's alluring curves. Ashadel grimaced, waving a hand in dismissal. "Take your pet and begone, demon. You have nothing I lust after." The demon narrowed her eyes before turning away, brushing her hair back from her face and flouncing away, dragging the helpless male after her. Ashadel watched her go before setting out herself, making no noise as she entered the spire that held the orb that would aid her in the first part of her journey.

* * *

Westfall was... well, the same as always. Roland considered the golden-hued land with a distant gaze, his mind more on what this place meant for him than what beauty it held. His hand raised to push black hair from his eyes, scanning the horizon with but a small glance before he turned and entered the home whose doorstep he had spent the last few minutes on.

The small home was more of a shack than anything, a two room building that was almost entirely bare save for a bed in one room, and a table in the other. Regardless, it was the walls that held the most interest. Whips hung from iron hooks, varying in length, material, and thickness. Above the bed itself were secured a set of chains, iron manacles hanging from each end while the middle was designed to spin. The table was littered with other instruments, some that didn't even look like something you would find in a Scarlet Interrogation chamber, let alone out of the mind of an insane man. Various potions and bowls of curious paste were set beside the items, a few of them bubbling or writhing.

Roland's steel-colored eyes went to the chains above the bed, a wicked grin crossing his lips as he stroked his beard in thought. "Michael." He was answered by a young man in the clothes of a cleric, who peeked around the wall that divided the first room with the bedroom. "I'm going to want more rope. The roughest you can find, and be quick about it. I have a feeling she'll be here soon." The youth bowed his head and left the home, leaving Roland to gaze at a picture that was easily ignored because of its placement next to the door. "Melanie... my love." He smiled fondly at the image of a blonde-haired human woman, before his eyes fell to the two elven females at her knee.

The sound of footsteps woke him from his reverie, his eyes darting about when he realized Michael had not been the one to make the noise. No, Michael disliked leather, and these were most certainly the sound of leather on wood. The hairs bristled on the back of his neck, and yet he remained... waiting, staring at the picture intently.

What happened next was a blur, the subtle sound of cloth folding across cloth his only warning; he sidestepped, reaching out a hand and gripping the wrist that had appeared, squeezing until a grunt of pain was accompanied by the clang of a weapon being dropped to the floor. There was a pause, that grunt becoming a whimper as he squeezed that fragile wrist again before pulling, slamming Ashadel against the wall with such force that the picture dropped, glass shattering across the floor.

"Look at that, Ash... you broke them again." His words were low, laced with a dark taunt as he pushed her hand to the broken glass, relishing that whimper of pain as blood flowed over the destroyed painting. "You broke them again... and now they're bleeding." That grin formed again at the look of utter fear that had appeared in those fel-green eyes, becoming ever more malicious at the shaking of her head that she had begun. "Don't lie. They died because of you... you killed them." His hand released her wrist only to come up to her hair, gripping it tightly and raising her up only to throw her against the wall.

"Get up, bitch." He growled as she lay there, hatred showing plainly in those eyes. That would change, and it would change quickly. His gaze went to the wall, hand lifting to unhook one of the whips that had been hung. It was his favorite, this one. Blackened leather, a firm handle... and a tip of silver. He watched her eyes widen, those lips open with what would no doubt be a plead for him to stop. "Get. Up." Amazing how quickly one moves when they are faced with pain, he mused.

Roland watched her pull herself up, watched her move away and into a corner. He liked this. He loved the smell of her fear, and she was so very frightened. Her sister had been the same way... so exotic, her mewls of pleasure and pain so sweet. This one wasn't so lucky... pleasure had killed her sister, and so she was left with pain. That, at least, was something he was good at. "Strip." The female merely glared at him, that glare transforming to shock and pain as the whip lashed out, splitting the cloth of her tunic wide open and leaving a welt on the soft flesh beneath it. "I said strip."

"No." He was amused at that word. Amused at how hard it seemed for her to say it, the woman having to force it out of herself. His amusement ended as she dashed towards him. A single word, a single thought, and he was behind her. Fingers reached out to grab her hair and twist, bringing her once again to the floor. "Strip." It was a guttural command, accompanied by a jerking of her hair that brought a hiss of pain to his ears as shaking hands tore the tunic from her chest. What he saw – or in this case, didn't see – there infuriated him.

"Healed! I told you to leave those marks on your flesh, whore." He dropped to his knees beside her, roughly taking her chin in his hand and forcing her to look at him, noting the look of confusion apparent in her eyes. "My brand, my marks. They are gone," he hissed, "and I will so enjoy bringing them back." Releasing her chin, he struck her hard, watching her lay still for a moment before he reached for the wrappings that held her breasts, tearing them easily.

"That was our deal, Little Fawn. You would come to me twice a week, bearing my marks, and my brand. What happened to them? Did my little wench go crying to a healer?" His knee came down on the side of her face, pinning her beneath his weight as one large hand grabbed roughly at one of her breasts, squeezing until she cried out, and only then did he release it, sliding his hand down to her hip. "Did you think I wouldn't notice? You're almost brand new... I can't see a single mark on you." The last three words dipped into a dark whisper as he pulled the cloth leggings down, sliding a hand between her milky thighs. "I wonder..."

She began to squirm, a new sort of fear gripping her, and he grinned, reaching up to the table and dragging down a cloth that he pressed to her face, her struggles slowing, and finally stopping. Footsteps at the door drove his eyes away from her body, gazing upon Michael with a sadistic smile on his lips. "Bind her, chain her. I need to make one more preparation..."

* * *

Ashadel woke to pain, knowing without even bothering to glance up that her hands were chained above her head in the iron shackles. Her hair dropped over her eyes as she hung her head, eyes closed against the dull ache that had begun to creep into her arms.

"_Neela? What do you do when the world seems dark?"_

Her ears twitched at the sound of a footstep in the room, the slow shift of someone sitting on the bed rousing her. Michael looked at her, those deep blue eyes filled with a sadness that no man should ever have to know. To comfort him, she tried to smile... tried so very hard, but it was useless. Her eyes dropped again as he reached out to tuck crimson hair behind an ear, mouthing the words he couldn't speak.

"I'm sorry."

This time, she did smile. It only lasted for a few moments, but it was enough. Michael's eyes seemed to light up as he leaned forward to push scarred lips to her cheek and leave the room. She found herself drifting back to sleep, content to use the rest to keep her mind off the growing ache.

"_Neela? What do you do?"_

The press of something warm and hard to her lips brought her from her doze. Her wrists had been unbound, the circulation pushing the familiar feeling of pins and needles through her arms and fingers. Out of habit, she turned away, only to be struck across the face with such force that her lip split.

"We've got a long night ahead of us, Little Fawn. A very long night indeed." Roland's voice was like steel, cutting through the fogginess of her mind with ease and at last giving her something to focus on. Her eyes met his, and he grinned, mocking the hate within them. "You can look at me like that all you like." he leaned down, winding fingers in her hair and tilting her head to the side to bare her neck to him, his free hand grabbing one of her breasts in his hand and squeezing, kneading the flesh with such force that it brought a whimper from her lips. "Tell me, Little Fawn..."

"_How do you get away, Neela?"_

"... Will you be able to even stand when I'm done with you? Why don't we find out?" Roland practically purred into her ear as she squirmed, his fingers tightening their hold on both hair and breast until she quit moving, his lips trailing down her neck and collarbone. "Your sister loved it when I did this, did you know? I could show you..."

"Bastard!" The rogue gave him a shove, surprising him enough that he toppled back. Ash fled for the door, the sharp crack of leather on her back sapping both air and strength from her as she collapsed to her knees. Roland merely grinned, dropping the whip he had hidden at the foot of the bed and crossing his arms.

"Stand up." He growled as she ignored him, repeating the command. "Stand up, now." When she refused the second time, he strode towards her, striking the lash mark with his hand as he gripped her arm with the other, lifting her onto the bed and moving her so he could chain her wrists. Roland smirked as she glared at him, glared with all of the force of a lioness in a cage. His fingers crept from her hands and down her arms, gliding over the swell of her breasts as his mouth lowered to one nipple, tongue slowly trailing over the nub while his hands fell further south.

"_I imagine I'm somewhere else, Asha. Somewhere I feel safe, or with someone who makes me feel safe."_

Ashadel groaned, her chest arching up against his mouth only to be greeted by a sharp pain as he nipped the flesh as a warning, his fingers now sliding up the flesh of her thigh and lightly tickling her mons with their tips. Probing fingers slid along her, tempting and teasing, but with malicious intent in mind.

"_... someone who makes me feel safe."_

She could feel the mage's work happening as numbness began to flood her lower body, knowing that soon she would only feel pain, sensitive areas robbed of what made these acts feel good. Yet, even knowing this, she glanced down at Roland, for just a brief moment seeing another Master in her life. One that was quite far away at the moment, but if she could just think about him...

Roland shifted, and her thoughts were shattered as he pulled his robe from around him, gripping her hair in one hand as he guided her lips to his groin. "Bite, and you'll be begging for death from Arthas himself." He growled as she turned her head away, yanking it back into place and pressing himself against her lips again.

Ash looked up at him, every muscle in her body screaming against her as she opened her mouth, nearly choking as he pushed himself in without any ceremony. Eyes half-closed, it was easier for her to replace the two males. In her mind, human became blood elf as easily as night into day, and she found herself more willing to service Roland while she was thinking of another.

The mage noticed one of her hands moving in its shackle, as if wanting to be released. A cruel grin crossed his lips as he opened his mouth to deny her, whatever words he planned on saying absent, replaced by a throaty moan as he felt her tongue work. The clinking of the shackle became an irritant, and he snapped his fingers, the metal screws falling away so she was still cuffed, but free to do what she seemed to want to do, his eyes watching her like a hawk.

Freedom. Her weight shifted as she gripped his manhood in one hand, fingers curling in her hair while her tongue danced circles along the sensitive skin. When he moved to pull away, she fought him, gripping his thigh until he pulled her hair, bending her over and motioning for her to turn around.

She did, even going so far as to part her legs, leaning forward and reaching between her thighs to run a finger along herself. This was no longer Roland behind her, no longer the tormenter dragging his nails along her back and thrusting into her with one swift move. It was another Master, another male taking her and using her... and as long as it was him, it didn't seem so bad anymore. Even if she couldn't feel pleasure, even if all she felt was pain? She didn't care as long as it was him whispering her name in her ear, calling her foul names and praising how she felt around him.

Ashadel let her head fall forward into the sheets of the bed, biting her lip against the pain as each movement slammed against her cervix, each withdrawal hitting an unfeeling bundle of nerves as the male plowed into her, leaning forward to bite her shoulder and let out a rumbling growl that only served to spur her into action, forcing herself back against him, meeting his thrusts and letting him know it, her whimpering quickly becoming cries through which even tears had begun to fall.

"Such a dirty little girl like you should be beaten." His hands gripped her waist, slamming her back against him, forcing another cry of pain out of her. "You act like you don't want it, but you do. You love being taken like the wench you are." He struck her ass with his hand, continuing twice more until the cheek was red.

_I'm so sorry, Master Sunsorrow. Please forgive me..._

Roland stopped moving, digging his nails into her hips as he withdrew from her, giving her only a faint breath as he sank himself to the hilt in her ass, the shock rendering her stunned, and very nearly slipping a name that was at this time best not said. Yet in her mind, that name was ringing quite strong as she envisioned him entwining his fingers in her hair, slipping a hand along her chest to grip a breast and tease its peak, his dark voice commanding her to scream, to moan, to whimper. Under his command, not Roland's... she did so, just before a bright shock of pain pulled her fantasy, and world from her.

* * *

The streets of Silvermoon were busy, as they always were. Her tunic and leggings destroyed, she had purchased a simple dress from a kind woman in the Undercity before taking the orb back to her race's capital. Ashadel's eyes were on the floor, each step taken gingerly, doing everything she could not to jar herself too much and bring a fresh wave of pain.

She had called for him. By accident, she had called for him and paid the price. There wasn't a single part of her body that wasn't in pain, though Michael had done all he could to ease as much as possible. Her left hip once again bore that brand, her back and arms covered in welts that had been healed enough to keep from being infected. A shudder ran through her as she remembered the tears Michael had shed as he bathed her in the ocean, just as much a slave to this torment as she was.

"Looks like you had fun, sweetie." The familiar voice of the succubus from the night before filtered to her, the demon content on a ledge with a new male sliding his fingers over her snatch. Ash could only nod meekly. Someone had fun... but it certainly hadn't been her.

The catacombs were silent as she entered them, the torches still lit in the main room. She fully expected to see someone there, but there was no one. Except Blue.

The orb blinked and darted around her as she entered the room, coming close enough to brush her cheek where a tear had begun to fall. The rogue sat down, eyes on the fabric of the dress that was stretched across her knee. For a moment, her gaze went to the rooms where the rest of the Cult was no doubt sleeping... and despite the tears, she smiled.

"The price of freedom, Blue. The price of freedom."


	2. Chapter 2

_**AN:** Normally I don't post short chapters. There's quite a bit of flashback in the beginning of this story, and there was actually one I had to remove because I really didn't need it for the story, and it was also incredibly sexually explicit. Heh. There's likely going to be a few chapters I'm simply going to have to pull as they've got no point in the story, but there's a couple I need to keep in and edit heavily for that same explicit material. This was a particularly dark story to write, and extremely cathartic the entire way through._

* * *

Westfall.

She hated this place. If that house looming on the horizon wasn't so familiar, it would have been easier for her to enjoy the scenery from her place beside Doru. She hazarded a glance his way, looking up at him while he drove the mech-hog out of the dreary place called Duskwood and into the dry air and golden fields of Westfall.

He didn't seem to notice her eyes on him, but she didn't mind it. Content to watch him for that brief moment, she noticed how easily he sat and led her to the mines. She knew his features by heart now, but features were never the same as speech, sometimes... and there was usually a lack of it. The woman knew this was mostly her fault. She was quiet, content to speak only when needed and not much more. Yet, he also frightened her. He was distant, sometimes. As quiet as her, but looking as though he was watching more than what was just there in front of him. Ash wondered for a moment if he knew what she was thinking, and she finally looked away.

The wind whipped her short hair around her face as Doru drove on, the slow thrumming of the motor and the smell of the sea luring her mind back to cherished memories...

"Faster!" Ashadel smiled as her younger sister tightened her grip around her waist, leaning against the older woman as Silvermane carried them both down the beach, sending seawater upwards in a spray that caught the afternoon sun and shimmered as though diamonds were being thrown. Their hair mingled, Ash's long golden locks entwining with the silver tresses of her beloved younger sister. Behind them, easily keeping up with the stallion, bobbed 'Blue', the younger child's birthday gift.

Ash frowned as she felt Neela's grip falter a bit, drawing Silvermane up with the lightest of touches to slip down to the sand, holding her arms out to steady the younger girl as she dismounted, an apologetic look in her eyes. "I'm sorry, Asha. Maybe that was too fast..." Neela drew away to sit on a rock, her white dress draping around her, fluttering faintly in the breeze.

"Are you in pain?" Ash tilted her head, frowning deeper as Blue bobbed past her to hover just above Neela's heart, pulsing like the organ itself. Silvermane snorted, nudging his mistress' shoulder playfully before trundling off to find some grass. Neela shook her head, beckoning Ash to sit beneath her, and she did.

Neela loved playing with her sister's hair; stroking it flat, twirling it around a finger, even gripping it... or just messing it up as she did now, a small smile on her lips as Ash groaned. "Thank you, Asha. For coming and getting me." Her sister nodded, remembering vividly the helpless cry she had heard through Blue. She had been in her family's stables then, getting ready to ride Silvermane out in the forests... but that had been dashed as she felt that cry, had forgotten saddle and bridle as she leaped onto her stallion's back, and had ridden to their family's home, where Neela had fairly burst out of the front door. Neela had caught Ash's hand easily, pulling herself up behind the older girl, and they had been off, never once stopping. Running from home, from city, and perhaps even from life.

"Why'd you call me?"

Neela sighed, fingers stopping their mussing of Ash's hair. "Mother introduced me to him... he's not bad, he's even rather nice, but I'm just not ready, Asha." She began braiding her sister's hair while she spoke. "I don't think I ever will be, really. You're older then me, and prettier. Why can't you marry him?" Ash grunted, knowing the reason all too well, and knowing that her sister knew it too. "I know I'm ill, I know I won't live very much longer. I just... I don't want to bear a child that may be like me. I want to be free, like you."

She fell silent as they watched the waves crash on the shore, the sun beginning to dip low on the horizon before Ash spoke. "Neela? When the pain gets to be too much... how do you escape?" She turned her head to look back over her shoulder, meeting her younger sister's rather confused gaze. "When the world seems really dark, and you aren't sure if you can keep going. What do you do?" Neela seemed to think before smiling, an adoring smile that spoke far more than her words did.

"I imagine I'm somewhere else. Somewhere I'm safe, or with someone who makes me feel safe. It helps me forget my pain, because I can be with that person in my mind, or visit that place in my heart. Most of the time, I think about you. How we always used to fight when we were little, and how much you hated me when I started filling out long before you ever did. How much I always wanted to be just like you, and still do. Sometimes, I like to imagine myself just like you, and you show me how to hunt. It helps give me a future... I don't have." Her voice broke as she began to sob, clinging to Ash as the older woman stood and drew her close, silken dress wrinkling against leather armor.

"Don't say that, Neela. You don't want to be like me! You have a big, bright future ahead of you, with a little girl of your own, and a husband who cares about you. Stop thinking about the pain, and look forward. You can be you... and I'll always be there. We can go hunting whenever you like... and you can tell me about how much your husband drives you up the wall..." Ash frowned, feeling like she was lying. Maybe she was. Neela would not get better... she would never live as long as Ash herself, and she was more likely to die in child-birth than to live to see her own child have children of their own. It tore her apart.

"I just want to be normal." It was a muffled wish, said against tear stained leather. "I want to be normal, and do everything everyone else does..." She fell silent, weakly hiccuping as her older sister held her, running fingers through her silver hair.

"You are normal, to me. Look... there's our star!" Ash pointed up to the first star that appeared, smiling as Neela seemed to brighten, blue eyes looking up at the endless void as more stars joined theirs. "Thank you, Asha."

"Ashadel."

The rogue shook her head, looking around the darkened caverns that she had been led through without even realizing it. Her eyes fell on Doru, his eyes seeming to shake away the haze that was still in her mind.

"Stay here."

She nodded, mutely watching as Doru rushed out of her sight, leaving her with her own thoughts. Thoughts that didn't seem to really want to come forward as she sat and waited for her Headmaster, the eerie dripping of water the only noise in the mines.

_I wish you were still here, Neela. I wish you could help me. I don't know what I'm doing anymore. I don't know why I am here, I don't know why I follow him... I don't know why I keep going._

Her younger sister flickered in and out of her mind as she waited. Waited for Doru, waited for Roland's call... just waited. The marks on her back and the brand on her hip burned ominously...


	3. Chapter 3

_**AN:** Another flashback._

_Funnily enough, this is the chapter where I really started to question how or why this family was in the midst of wedding ceremonies when Arthas himself was bearing down on their city. I've decided that I really don't want to think about it too hard, but I will be the first to admit that I look at a lot of this story with the love of a mother. On the one hand, I adore my baby. On the other hand, I'm not beyond silently giggling when they trip and fall. Not gonna lie, I see a lot of holes in this story now that I read back through it, but perhaps those will be ironed out when I rewrite this entire adventure ten years down the road or something. I don't know._

* * *

"You look... breathtaking." Ashadel watched her younger sister spin, her white wedding dress spinning out around her and casting sparks of color around the room. Her silver hair was wreathed in white flowers, her neck graced with a silver necklace that her betrothed had given her many months ago. Neela's cheeks were a rich rose color, flushed with the excitement that fairly danced in her eyes. "Really, Neela... you'll make his jaw drop."

Neela shook her head, turning back to the mirror and smoothing her hands over the jeweled bodice of her dress. "You're sure?" She turned back to her sister, a rather impish grin coming over her lips as she eyed her. "I think I'm more shocked that you're in a dress, and not those normal leathers!" Indeed, the older sister looked quite lovely. Her blonde hair hung loose around her, dark blue ribbons tied within the strands that matched the royal blue gown she wore. The silk bodice hugged the curves that - despite her older age - were only just coming into being, the skirt a nice A-line that only barely allowed her slippers to show. Her arms were covered, not with silk, but with sleeves made of a light material... gauze, or perhaps linen. Ashadel hadn't allowed any makeup to be placed on her or her sister, and to be honest... it wasn't needed. She truly looked lovely.

"I promised you I'd dress properly for this." Her cheeks flushed, Ash looked to the door as a servant knocked softly. "It's almost time, girls." The woman's eyes fell on Neela, standing in a sunbeam beside the window, and tears sprang to her eyes. "Oh, by the Sunwell, Miss Neela." Closing the door behind her, the high elf nearly twittered, dabbing at her eyes with a kerchief. "It seems like just yesterday your Mother was bringing you into this world, and now look at you. Oh, I'll miss you dearly, little one." The servant took a deep breath, gesturing to Ashadel as she turned to leave. "Come along, Miss Asha. You need to take your place!"

"Wait." Neela's hand gripped Ash's wrist lightly, blue eyes meeting her own. "Promise you'll stay? You promised to dress nicely, but you never said you'd stay..." The older sister smiled, looking at her sibling with a doration before leaning forward to place a kiss on her forehead. "Neela, I will never let you be alone." Neela released her wrist, letting her leave with the servant. As the door closed behind her, Ashadel looked out a window, pressing her hands to her stomach. Unknowing, Neela was doing the same, her own eyes out her window as well.

_I have a horrible feeling..._

Ash hazarded a glance to the door before following the servant out into the garden, where benches and large pillows had been brought into the circle of fully flowering roses. Her eyes caught those of her parents, and she gave them an encouraging nod before standing at the front of the gathering that was only growing larger, beside Neela's husband to be. Miraculously, he looked calm and composed, his crow-black hair swept over one shoulder while his robes - for once - were clean and pressed, a deep green color like well-kept grass. At his side was a large white wolf, nothing more than a familiar, completely formed of magic, much like Blue.

Averoan leaned in as Ashadel stood next to him, and she smiled as he spoke. "How is she? Not looking to run, right?" This close, she was sure she could smell the fear on him, his trembling voice only assuring her further. Her hand came up to rest on his arm, the action and her voice reassuring him as one. "She'll be here, or so help me, I'll hunt her down and drag her back myself." They laughed, and Ash realized that she was genuinely happy for her sister. That day on the beach, when Neela had called for Ash to take her far away from the meeting where she had first met Averoan... seemed so very far away now.

The murmurs of the guests pulled their attention to the garden gate, where Neela had appeared as if out of thin air. Ash could see her eyes through the thin veil, and noticed that they never looked away from Ashadel herself. As if to encourage her, she moved her hand over her heart, smiling as the younger woman seemed to stand a little straighter, a bright smile on her lips as she walked down the aisle that had been left for her. Swirling and darting around her was Blue, the little orb of energy fairly echoing Neela's own emotions. Chancing a glance sideways at Averoan, Ashadel was pleased to see that she had been right. He was struck speechless, his jaw open just a bit more than it should have been. It snapped closed with an audible noise as Ash cleared her throat.

Despite her assuring words and actions, Ashadel was nervous herself. Instead of choosing a priest to marry them, or a high-ranking noble, both bride and groom had asked for she herself to bind them. She had pored for months over books, begged for aid from priests, and even asked her parents to aid her. All had said the same thing: "Speak from your heart." The night previous, she had been unable to think of a single word... but with her sister now here beside her, looking up at Averoan with that expression of love... words came. She only hoped they were the right ones. Silence fell as the bride and groom looked at eachother, and then to her. Neela's smile broadened just a bit, for once strengthening her sister... and so she spoke.

"Welcome. Today, we not only watch two people embark on a new life together, but also bear witness to two families become one for as long as these two choose to keep their bond. This is a bond more sealing than a contract, one that should only be broken under the most dire of circumstances... do you approve?" The guests murmured agreement, their eyes on the couple. "Then I will continue." Her eyes went to Averoan, nudging him from his stupor with her words. "Averoan, of House Brightsword, what do you bring to this woman and her family?"

"I bring an open heart, and ready aim. I bring unyielding trust, and unbroken promise. Never shall my heart yearn for another, and never will I scorn the woman I love. My home will remain open for her family as long as they are mine, and I will never speak against them, or raise my voice to them in anger. Not a hand will a lay on my life-mate, except in love. On this, my life, and my honor, I swear."

Ashadel nodded, taking his hands in one of hers, a rich golden glow surrounding their hands as she looked to Neela. "And you, Neela of House Sungleam. What do you bring to this man and his family?"

Neela repeated what he had said, and when she was finished, her hand was also brought into the glow, ribbons of light surrounding their hands together like ropes to drape around their fingers. "Today, your lives become one, your families bound by the promises you have spoken today. From this day forward, as long as your promises remain true, you are Lady and Lord Brightsword." The cords of light tied, sinking into the flesh of the couple as the glow dimmed and vanished. A cheer rang out from the back, and soon all the guests were laughing and cheering, the families standing to mingle and speak as the bride and groom kissed and made their way to the banquet tables that had been set out, leaving Ashadel alone in that corner of the garden.

_Something doesn't feel right..._

Dusk had begun to fall, hours had passed, and still the families celebrated. Neela had danced with everyone at least five times, even the few children. Ashadel had simply watched, smiling from her place at the table while her sister had been spun around like a top. Finally, Neela was able to rest, sitting beside her elder sister, breathless. "Dance, Asha! You look so forlorn over here in the corner..." Ash smirked as she shook her head, lifting a finger and waggling it at the younger girl. "I said I would attend. I said nothing about dancing, or frolicking like a child!"

Neela stuck her tongue out at her sibling, smiling as Ash smiled. They remained like that for what seemed like an eternity before Neela was dragged off again by one of her new cousins, leaving Ash to pay attention to the shifting breeze and the smell of decay that was only just present below the scent of roses, roasts, and cake. The smell made her stomach turn, and she was grateful as the breeze shifted again, but only for a moment.

A shrill scream shattered the music and laughter like a hot knife through butter. That gnawing feeling that had been in her gut all day was finally realized as staggering forms made their way through the rose bushes and hedges, the scent of rot and decay strong, overpoweringly so. Much worse was the blank look in their eyes, the lack of any emotion as mutiple mangled bodies - corpses - leapt upon the nearest servant, dragging him down and tearing him limb from limb. More were coming, and yet more elves fell... time seemed to slow as Ashadel stood, her normally composed face turned in an expression of horror.

"Asha!" Neela's voice pulled her from her fear, her sister's grip seeming to strangle the life from her wrist. "Asha, I can't find Aver!" A sob cracked the words, and Ashadel drew her sister close as arcane magic torrented around them, the creatures falling dead only to be replaced by even more. The girls glimpsed their mother, her hair blowing around her as if caught by wind as another pulse of energy swamped the undead. "Asha!" Her sister shrieked, pointing to where her father and his saber had been corraled by a row of the undead. Neela struggled against her sister, sobbing as they watched their father fall. That was her breaking point.

"We need to go." Without waiting for her answer, Ashadel tore through the hedge, wincing as thorns grabbed at her hair and clothes, tearing the dress she wore into shreds. Neela never released her, sobbing uncontrollably as her older sister dragged her to the carriage she should have been in, where Silvermane had been waiting, his saddle attached to the long arms of the carriage. "Get in." She all but pushed her sister in before following, cracking the reins hard. A glance behind her as her stallion tore off for the gates showed her Mother mounting her own horse, Averoan just behind her, his own skills showing remarkably as skeletons and ghouls found themselves immobilized by frost.

Half the city was on fire already, bodies torn limb from limb and left behind as the cruel invaders continued onward, uncaring of the hopes and dreams they were shattering one by one. Spotting a hole in the wall that surrounded the city, Silvermane made his way there, rattling the carriage as it ran over rubble and corpses to break through the few invaders still there. Ashadel dragged her sister down as her stallion whinnied sharply, felt the carriage lose footing and roll, and even heard the sickening snap of her beloved mount's neck as it took him with it, crashing down a hill before laying still.

Her entire body ached, so tightly was she coiled around her younger sister. Both lay there for a moment, their ragged breathing the only noise until Neela glanced up and moaned. "You're hurt." Ash shook her head, releasing her sibling as she rose to push the carriage off of the both of them. Blood stung her eyes, and instead she crawled out from beneath it, tearing her dress even more so she could move better. She helped her sister out, keeping her eyes away from the still form of Silvermane as she ripped the wedding gown that had become both dirt and bloodstained. Deft fingers wrapped silken cloth around shallow wounds before she took her hand, fairly dragging her sister along. Neela wasn't crying anymore.

They fled, Ashadel pausing from time to time to allow her sister time to breathe before continuing. Even from here, they could hear the screams. Once, they had been forced behind an outcropping of rocks as another group of walking corpses and a necromancer went by, Ash's hand over her sister's mouth to silence her ragged breathing. It wasn't until they reached the river that broke Eversong from the Ghostlands that they saw the rider and her white horse. Syori yelled for them, tears in her eyes as she drew up and fairly fell on her daughters, sobbing. Neela cried as well, but Ashadel remained silent.

They continued quickly, heading for Lordaeron. Neela was fast asleep astride Dawnbreaker when Ashadel finally asked about Averoan. Her mother's silence was enough, and part of her heart ached for her sister. They remained silent from then on. The sun had begun to rise again when Syori stopped, thrusting her mount's reins into Ashadel's hands and telling her to ride. The air filled with screams of torment and anguish, shaking Neela from her slumber as her sister pulled herself up behind her. "Go," their mother commanded, and the look Syori gave her eldest was one of adoration, pride... and silent goodbyes. Her arm around Neela, Ash glanced back as Dawnbreaker tore for safety, and watched as Syori fell beneath what looked to be a whole horde of ghoulish invaders. Only then did the eldest sister, and eldest survivor of House Sungleam cry. Her face buried in Neela's dirty silver hair, she sobbed. Behind them, Quel'thalas burned.

It was many days later when Dawnbreaker finally succumbed to her own injuries and died, leaving Ashadel to carry her weakening sister. They had no idea where they were, and had long given up on thinking of eating anything that the Scourge had passed near. Indeed, every village they lingered towards was burned, many corpses left to rot under the sun. Ashadel was driven more by will than anything now... but will wouldn't keep her, or her sister, alive.

On noon of the fifth day, Ashadel finally collapsed. Dirty, tired, and hungry, the elder sister fed what few berries she could find to her sister before she curled up around Neela's frail form. Her eyes drifted closed, and she never heard the sound of a cart coming near, never heard the sound of horses being drawn up, and by the time she finally felt herself being lifted into the cart, she was already asleep.

Roland glanced down at the two girls who had been placed in one of the carts, his wife Melanie already stripping the girls and patching their wounds as best as she could given the circumstances. A glance up at him and a swift nod assured him that her charges would live, if only just barely. He grunted, turning back to flick the reins, the horses moving steadily south... away from Lordaeron... away from Quel'thalas.


	4. Chapter 4

_**AN:** Vague adult content. Be warned._

* * *

Roland Silversmith was a good man. His house was not enormously large like those of the nobles of Stormwind and Lordaeron, but it was a good size. His own farm in Westfall was likely his most prized piece of property, not just for the massive fields of grains and vegetables it could produce and support, but for the beautiful ocean view it had as well. The main building itself could have been described as more of a log cabin, a two story affair with four bedrooms, a large living room, and a quaint kitchen. It even had it's own bathhouse in a medium sized building off to the side. This home had been his families for generations, and it was easily his pride and joy.

It was in one of the bedrooms of this large home that Ashadel awoke, moonlight forcing her eyes shut for a few moments before she slowly sat up, her hands pinching the fabric of the linen gown she was wearing in honest confusion. A mirror on a small dresser caught her attention, and she slowly - but with all the grace of a dead whale - rose from the bed to draw near to it. She looked like hell. Her face was gaunt, and littered with small scratches. A bandage had been wound around her head, serving as a rather retarded hat, and she noticed one long scratch that went from the middle of her forehead, down over her left eye, only to stop just above her cheek. Thankfully, her sight was unaffected.

Blue eyes searched the room for notice of anything else, but it was rather sparse. Wherever she was, it was very clear that this room was not a main room. The blankets were crisp, as were the sheets... everything had a distinct floral scent. She noted a small side table beside the bed that held a book that she couldn't read. At first she believed it was simply because her mind was still foggy, but after opening it and paging through a few of the white pages, she realized it was literally unreadable, in a language she did not know. By now, her curiosity had become almost insatiable, and she roamed through the rest of the small room with all the finesse of a child looking for presents on her birthday. It was only as she noticed the wreath of white flowers above her head that the hazy fog seemed to clear, a name forming and leaving her. "Neela."

She struggled with the door for a few moments, marveling at how silent it opened when she finally managed to figure out the proper way to turn the silver key, stepping into the darkened hallway with practiced silent steps. Fingers grazed along the wall as she left the room, her head beginning to ache. At the far end of the hall, red light lined the door of another room, one that had been left very slightly open. Dark streaks against the wood of the door depicted movement, and although her curiosity wanted her to look, she instead pushed open the nearest door. An empty room met her gaze, and she closed the door before going to the next one.

Neela lay in the bed beside the window, a large silver bowl with a cloth resting on the table beside it. Bandages covered her arms, and she was also dressed in a linen shift. Her silver hair spilled out around her face, and for a moment, the way the moonlight hit her made Ashadel believe in celestials. She crept forward, reaching out to take Neela's hand in her own, brushing hairs away from her face with the touch of a lover. Minutes passed before she finally lowered her lips to her sister's forehead and drew away, closing the door behind her while her eyes roamed back to that final door. Shadows were still splayed against the wood, and it was insane curiousity that drove her to pad down the hall, pushing the door open just enough to peer inside, a hand on the door frame.

While larger, the room was just as sparsely decorated, holding very few pieces of furniture. A large bed sat against the wall, the firelight from a large fireplace casting a rich red glow over their sweaty forms. Ash remained transfixed, too scared to move, and yet too curious to look away. An agonizing pain clutched at her stomach as she remembered watching something of this nature when she was much younger.

Roland was bent over his wife, her hands pinned above her head with one of his own while the other kneaded one of Melanie's heavy breasts, tracing lines around her nipple with his tongue. The sheen of sweat on both of their bodies was enough to tell that they had been at this for more than a long while, though the way Melanie was shaking, it was a good guess this was not her first orgasm. Ashadel found herself scouring both of them, admiring the well-toned and muscled form of Roland, his shoulder length black hair plastered to his skin. Small scars lined his arms, and she was certain she saw the patch of smooth skin that normally signified an old burn on his thigh. His tanned body was a stark contrast to his wife, who was more than easy to see as Roland hooked his arms under hers, lifting her as he laid back on the pillows, his female never missing a beat as she rode him, her head tilted back. Golden hair streamed down her back in gentle waves, and she boasted a body that most elven women would kill for.

Ash found herself startled as Melanie released a low groan, matching Roland's grunt as he pushed deep into her, gripping her breasts roughly for the briefest of moments before his arms opened, catching Melanie as she fell forward, completely exhausted. They remained like that, panting, and once again Ash felt that lingering pain while Roland stroked his fingers through his mate's hair, murmuring sweet nothings. This paused when a loud snap from the fire startled Ash, jumping and hissing in pain as her knee connected with the wood frame.

Steel grey and honey colored eyes snapped to the door, the couple watching for a moment before Melanie rose, grabbing a robe to cover herself as she went to the doorway, a hand coming to rest on Ash's shoulder with firm assurance. Roland appeared behind her, looking down at Ashadel with a gaze that she didn't quite understand. Wonder, curiousity... but something else lingered there. Something that terrified her as much as it intrigued her.

"Are you alright, child?"

Ash could see her speaking, could hear her velvet voice... but simply couldn't understand her. Melanie frowned as the elf shook her head, moving out of the way as Roland - still nude - bent and scooped her up easily in his arms, carrying her back to the room where she had awoken and lay her on her bed. He smiled, a rather predatory grin as she kept her eyes averted from his lower body, her cheeks a flaming scarlet as he turned and left. Melanie fussed with her, pulling the covers up and over her with such a familiar and loving gesture that Ash could only smile as the human female pressed her lips to the elf's forehead, and turned to leave, following her husband out.

Ashadel remained awake for a long time after that, finally drifting to sleep only to be caught in fitful slumber, where she lived out the fall of Quel'thalas over and over in her sleep, unknowing that Melanie could hear her from Neela's room while she watched the younger sibling sleep, a frown creasing the woman's lips.

"Poor child."


	5. Chapter 5

**_AN: _**_Not so vague adult content. I'd have left this chapter out entirely, but it needed to be put in. Flashback, by the by._

* * *

Days passed quickly on the Silversmith farm, turning into weeks, and then months. Summer came upon them, burning the backs of the farmers as they tilled their fields, and making it nearly impossible for little Neela to remain outside. Yet, despite this all, there was a happiness to the household that had never been there before. All were preparing for the Midsummer Festival in a few days time, and none were more excited than the Sungleam girls themselves. Neela had spent many of the early mornings seeking flowers to turn into wreathes, while Ashadel accompanied Michael to the various farms and towns to pick up supplies.

In truth, Ashadel enjoyed her time away from the farm. Roland had become infatuated with alcohol, which not only served to skew his judgement with his magic, but also made him prone to fits of rage. Melanie still bore the bruises from when he had last lashed out. Once, Ashadel had seen a large bruise on her younger sister's side, as if her hip had been gripped a bit too hard. Neela had refused to say a word, going so far as to tell Ashadel that she was being far too protective, and that she wasn't a little girl anymore. The fight had left Ashadel confused, and hurt. So when Michael asked if she wanted to accompany him with his chores for the festival, she readily accepted.

There had been another reason for her agreeing to go. Despite the fact he was human, and it was looked down upon, she found herself attracted to the blonde male. Something about his blue eyes, the rich blue that reminded her more of a deep mountain lake, managed to calm her even when frustration had set in. His laugh was also alluring, deep and boistrous, completely different from him... so odd from a man who could have passed easily as an elf himself. Over the months he had not only helped her understand Common, but had shared bits of himself that were very painful, baring his soul further than it had ever been bared before, even in his learning at the Cathedral.

They were entering Westfall again when she finally realized she had been staring at him, that laugh given as she looked away and nudged her horse forward, leaving him chuckling from his place on the cart. He smiled as she rode ahead, watching her blonde hair fan out behind her as she nudged her stallion into a swift run, turning him around to rush back to the cart before going again. His stomach turned, doing flip-flops when she smiled, returning beside him and the cart as they approached the Silversmith farm.

Farmhands set about unloading the cart, Ashadel trotting off to the stables to tend to her stallion and the cart-mare. Michael caught something out of the corner of his eye as he helped one of the men unload a large bundle of wood, and he glanced upwards at the farmhouse. He immediately wished he hadn't. The sheer curtains did nothing to hide the white palm pinning them to the window, Neela's form clearly visible to his keener eyes as she became more pressed up against the window, the way she seemed to rock back and forth against the glass making it all the more obvious what was going on. Despite his misgivings, he looked away as Ashadel returned, tossing her the lighter items from the cart as if he had seen nothing.

Roland watched Michael carefully, his steel gaze not softening one bit as he continued to thrust his fingers into the elven woman in front of him, ignoring her whimpers and pleas for him to stop. In all truth, he loved this. Loved the power he felt coursing over him as he bent little Neela to his will. It was far more delicious than the warlock's minion said it would be. Control... he loved to know he was in control. All these months he had spent at the bar had been more than worth it. His thrusts became rougher, forcing the woman to brace herself against the window-frame, or break the glass. She chose the first, her large and firm breasts slapping against the glass as her head hung low, a grimace of pain on her face. Roland leaned forward, cupping his free hand under her chin and forcing her to look out the window.

"Look, little one. Look how she smiles, uncaring of what is being done to you. Surely she knows by now... surely she understands where your marks are coming from. Yet, does she care? No... she'd rather bed the blonde male before coming to my bed, freeing you of this pain..." He drew his tongue along her ear, biting firmly at the tip as she sobbed. "You could scream... she'd come running without a second thought. Or so you think..." Pulling his fingers from her, he gave her no reprieve as he gripped her hair, tearing her away from the window and throwing her to the bed, that predatory grin on his lips as she curled up, eyes wide with fear. His robes were discarded easily, hands reaching out to grip her ankles and pull her close, tightening painfully as she struggled.

"N-no..." was all she could sob, the frail girl putting up yet another fight, not because he liked it... but because she truly did not want this. She had lost count of how many times he had violated her, at first coming to her room and becoming frustrated as she managed – even weakened – to fight him off, but becoming more forceful and managing to overpower her as the days went by. The dresses Melanie bought for her easily hid the worst of the bruises he inflicted on her, making it so nobody would know. Nobody but Ashadel, who had by now been frightened off by Neela's vehemence that she was only seeing things.

"Oh yes..." Roland jerked her closer, winding her slim legs around his hips before pinning her hands above her head, chains of ice surrounding her wrists, binding them together. His free hand sank down, forcing three fingers into her, spreading her as he leaned forward. "Resist, and I'll find Ashadel tonight. I'm becoming bored with you, Little One. Tired of fighting you..." He smirked as she whimpered, becoming just a little more responsive. "That's right." His fingers withdrew, pleased at how quickly she was giving in.

Pain, as he had learned over these months, was something Neela not only feared, but hated. He could bring her to her peak, and hurt her in some way and she'd be back to square one again. Neela shuddered as he rubbed her folds with his length, glaring daggers at him until her face screwed up in pain as he shoved himself into her, his hands going to her breasts as he roughly began fucking her. Her noises were like music; whimpers sent shivers down his back, cries only made him thrust harder, and muffled screams were enough to push him over the edge.

"S-stop... please!" Roland shook his head, leaning down over her as he gripped her breasts hard, palming her nipples roughly. "If I stop now... I'll need your sister to finish me off. You wouldn't like that, would you? Knowing you were bringing pain on her because you were too weak?" His taunts only served to make her give in more, a strangled sob leaving her and setting the fire in his loins raging. Roland released her breasts, lifting her legs up onto his shoulders and spearing her almost fully. He could feel himself pressing against her cervix, and the look of pure terror in her eyes as one hand came down to cover her mouth was more than enough to convince him. His hips moved slowly, taunting her as he spoke, steel gaze never leaving her terrified blue eyes. "You'll never get away from me, Little One. Never."

He lowered his head to her neck, sinking his teeth into her as he pushed himself in to the hilt. Her muffled screams behind his hand, and the tears he could feel racing down her cheeks and into his hair were more than enough. A low grunt was the most he gave, filling her with ropes of thick seed even as she struggled, the screams becoming sobs, then whimpers as he pulled out of her, still hard.

"Clean yourself up. Dinner needs to be made." Searching for his robes and finding them, he pulled them on and went to the door, not even looking back as he left. Neela lay stunned for a moment, full and yet completely empty. Her legs pulled up into her chest as she buried her face in the pillow, and she remained like that, sobbing with no tears able to come, until Melanie entered the room and scooped her up into her arms, rocking back and forth. "I'm so sorry, Neela. So, so sorry."

Time passed. Summer fled before fall, and fall fled before winter. Though snow was rare in the fields of Westfall, chill breezes were not. It was not uncommon to wake to frost glazed windows, and there were many mornings where Ashadel woke early with her sister to care for the horses. They were there now, Ashadel in her normal leathers, while Neela had bundled herself up nicely under a thick dress and cloak.

"Asha?" Neela's voice was muffled from the other side of one of the cart-horses that they were brushing, but she continued anyway. "When you're out with Michael... do you do anything?" There was something in the tone of her voice that made Ashadel stop brushing the horse, stepping up on an overturned bucket to look over the beast and down at her sister. Neela was looking up at her, and Ashadel was shocked at how gaunt she seemed, how sickly she looked. "We go to the towns, or the farms. Sometimes he'll take me to a waterfall at the border of Westfall... but that isn't what you're asking, is it?"

Neela shook her head, looking down to the coat of the horse as she brushed. "I mean... have you bedded him?" She looked up as Ashadel shook her head, blonde hair mingling over the dark coat of the horse. "No. I can't say I ever will, either. I was uncertain of men back home, remember? That doesn't change here." Her fingers came up to scratch the beast behind the ears affectionately, her head tilted. "What if... what if you did? What if you ended up bearing his child...?"

Ashadel didn't like the way the conversation was starting to go. "I wouldn't. A child like that would be doomed, hated by both races they called their own." Her gaze on her younger sister became more analytical, especially as Neela put the brush away and nodded. "You're right." There was a guilty pause, as if wanting to say more before she just shrugged and turned. "Thank you, Asha." Ashadel was left to wonder what was going on as Neela went back to the house, but the answer came as shouts rang up just outside the stable.

Michael appeared at the stable door just as Ashadel reached it, a pained look in his eyes as he blocked her from leaving. "I can't let you out of here, Ashadel. Roland's orders." A hand went to her shoulder as she tried to push by, his blue eyes locking on her own intensely. "You need to stay here..." A glance past him made her jaw drop, as she watched farmhands carry the unconscious form of her younger sister into the main house.

"What's wrong, Michael? She's my sister!" That pained look he gave her made her stop, her tone beseeching. "Michael... I don't understand." Suddenly, everything seemed to click into place. The bruises, the defensiveness from Neela earlier that year, the small home Roland had ordered built just for Ashadel herself on one of the corners of his property, the way Neela walked, the way she dressed. Most of all, the conversation they had just had, not even moments before.

He seemed to understand as she began shaking her head, one of her hands coming up to cover her mouth as he spoke, drawing her into a comforting hug. "She's pregnant, Ashadel."


	6. Chapter 6

_Dearest Sister,_

_I'm writing to you now because I can no longer bring myself to speak. By now, everything should be obvious, but it'll all come too late. I wanted to tell you, so very much, about what was happening. I wanted to make the pain stop, but I couldn't bring myself to put pain on you. You've... always been there when I needed you most, except this time. It's my fault, though, not yours. I pushed you away to protect you, as best as I could._

_I never forgot about how you saved me that day, when I was very young. How you held on for what seemed like hours until Mother and Father found us. I always wanted to repay you for that... a life for a life, you know? I just never found the chance. Until now._

_I'm... with child. Roland's child. Since we were taken in by this family, many times each week, Roland would find me, overpower me, and force himself on me. If Melanie interfered, then he would rape her as well, right beside me. We tried to remain silent, even though it was easily seen how we were treated. Nothing goes by you... but I chased you away. I wanted you to ignore this. I wanted you to be happy, maybe even with Michael. I wanted to hope that he could take care of you, take you away from Roland before it became too late. I wanted you to love, and never feel what I did._

_My time is becoming short, Asha. I want you to know that when I am gone, he will come for you. I'm begging, pleading you to be far away when that happens, for your sake. Take what you can that is important to you, and flee. Don't look back. Don't let him get you._

_Remember me fondly, Asha. _

_Your sister, now and forever,_

_Neela._

_P.S: Averoan's necklace... take it with you. So you're never alone._

The letter sat open on the desk, beside a stack of books on an oak desk pushed against the wall. A satchel was open on the matching chair, half filled with more books. The bed was covered in clothes that had been tossed out of drawers and into larger satchels that had been placed beside the bed, as if the clothes had been thrown without care, and in great hurry.

In front of the window, her hands placed on either side of the frame that held the glass, her forehead pushed to the cool window, stood Ashadel. Her eyes were locked on the pyre that was still blazing after all of these hours, sending the ashes of her beloved sister to the winds. Tears streaked down her cheeks as she closed her eyes, blinding herself to the horrible truth that lay burning outside her window. She was alone.

A light tap on her door brought her from her pain for a moment, as Melanie stepped inside the small home that Roland had built for her, wringing her hands as she looked around. "I promised Neela that I would help you. Michael and I both promised..." Ashadel nodded, looking blankly to the clothes and books before refolding the letter and tucking it away in a small pouch on her belt. "I should have... I should have tried harder to help her." Melanie's voice became broken with sobs, which only escalated as Ashadel hugged her close.

"Neela loved you, very much. I saw it every time you bought her a dress, or brought her flowers. I know that nothing hurt her more than seeing you hurt when you tried to help her. I can't... I can't be angry at you. You took us in, treated us kindly... treated us like your children. I have nothing but love for what you did for both of us." She pulled away, smoothing Melanie's hair away from her face for a moment before turning and grabbing a dagger from her bed, raising it to her neck and with one swift stroke, cutting her thigh-length hair so it fell to the middle of her neck.

Melanie watched, taking the dagger and rope of hair from Ashadel as the elven woman turned away, shaking her head. "I can't bring anything with me. I want to, but I know it'll only haunt me. Everything I have reminds me of him..." She glanced at a thick traveling cloak hanging on her wall by a peg, and the dagger Melanie still held. "I'll take those, though." Melanie nodded, handing Ashadel the dagger as both women left the home, two horses already waiting while Ashadel fastened the cloak around her.

"Michael is distracting him. We'll have time to flee Westfall, but not much else." Words weren't necessary as both women mounted, both fully aware of just how little time there was as they turned their horses south. South, they rode... Ashadel never looking back, not even once.

…

"You killed her." Michael's low voice could barely be heard over Roland's hammer as he worked, sweat coursing down his topless chest in the heated area of his own shop. "You knew she was ill, you knew she bore your child. You knew she'd likely never make it, and yet you just kept going. Why?"

Michael's voice was becoming irksome to Roland, the mage pausing in his hammering to look over his shoulder at the other male. "I needed a child. My woman is barren. Always has been, since birth." He gripped a loose cloth, wiping his soiled hands on it as he continued. "I'd have preferred the older sibling, myself... but the younger served my purpose, until she died."

"Because you killed her!" Michael's hands were fists, now. They clenched even tighter as Roland laughed, a hearty laugh that was meant more for a gathering of friends than this morbid time. "So I did! Next time, I won't strangle my bedmate. I didn't know I was hurting her..." His gaze grew colder as Michael drew himself up, shaking his head.

"There will be no more next time. I'm taking Melanie away tonight, somewhere safe, once she returns from taking Ashadel where she will be safe. Away from you. You won't do this to anyone else, Roland. Never again." Michael's blue eyes shone defiantly in the firelight from the forge, watching Roland as the older male turned back to his anvil, picking up his tongs from where he had left them warming in the coals. "I won't remain silent, not after this."

Roland chuckled as the room became like ice, a sinister sound that one would never expect from this man. He raised the tongs, now holding a hot piece of charcoal as he tilted it back and forth, looking it it curiously before turning to Michael, who now stood frozen and unable to move. Roland moved forward, still holding the tongs and swaying them in front of Michael's face. With a grip like iron, he forced the frailer man's mouth open, a wicked leer on his face as he spoke. "Oh yes... yes you will."


	7. Chapter 7

_**AN:** Closer to the present, but not quite... This one and the next explain a bit about why she is dealing with Roland. _

* * *

_His hands were all over her, tearing her clothes from her before pushing her down, biting and scratching at her flesh while she did all she could to escape from him, crying out in pain as he grabbed her breasts and squeezed, twisting with a cruel grin on his lips as he heard her scream..._

Ashadel woke with a start, pressing her hands to her sweaty face while she gasped for air, trying to calm herself. Her fingers went to her throat, untangling the necklace there while her other hand swept damp red hair out of her fel-green eyes. Clutching the pendant in one hand, she swept the blankets off of her, standing with some trouble and stumbling to the dresser where her mirror was propped against the wall.

The nightmares were becoming worse. It had been two years, nearly, since she had escaped, since Melanie had escorted her back to the remaining High Elves and pleaded with her never to return. Her heart had ached, watching the human woman turn back where they had come, to know that she was going right back to that place. To him.

Ashadel's fingers gripped the wood dresser for a moment before she pushed away, pulling her tunic up and over her head and tossing it on the bed, shivering as the warmth from the shirt seeped out of her now nude body, goosebumps creeping up along her skin. Hands dipped down into the basin of water beside the dresser, sending crystalline droplets back down as she splashed her face and neck before grabbing a cloth and soaking it, drawing it over her pale skin slowly.

Her eyes went to her window as she bathed, looking out over the city that was slowly being rebuilt, if slowly. Her room faced the wall that split the city from the Dead Scar, the painful reminder of what all of the high elves had lost those few years before. She dropped the cloth into the basin with a heavy sigh, pulling open the top dresser drawer and pulling out one of the long pieces of cloth that had been wound tightly. Pressing one end to her side below her arm, she slowly began winding it around her torso, pinning her breasts down securely.

That done, she pulled a soft cloth tunic and leggings on, and then her leathers. Daggers came next, simplistic items only made for their job and not for style, strapped to her belt. Neela's necklace was safely tucked into her armor, her eyes trailed over the room for a moment before she opened her door and left, fingers combing through her tousled hair while she exited the tiny home she rented, trotting down the marble streets that were lit only by blue light from hovering lamps in the depths of night.

"Can't sleep, again?" Ashadel grunted as she entered the rogue's quarters, a darkened area fit for those who chose to live their lives in shadows. The speaker seemed to appear from no where, standing in front of her with a calculating, if concerned, look in his eyes. "You should be resting, Fawn. All the others are." He gestured behind him, where the mats that were usually occupied by many trainees were empty. Still, Ashadel shook her head.

"Can't sleep. I'm tired of the nightmares. I want to stay awake, and if I'm going to be awake, I may as well train." She pushed by him, taking one of the swords off the wall and swinging it loosely in her hand for a few moments. He chuckled, grabbing one of his own and tapping the tip of her blade with his. "Then let's train."

He faded from view, leaving Ashadel with her eyes closed, sword held loosely at her side while she tried to concentrate. The torches popped on the walls around her, making it all the more difficult to listen to what she needed to... and yet. The faintest of breezes by her left ear was enough, her sword coming up to clang against her trainer's own, parrying it away with a simple twist of the blade.

"Good! Now, let's take it a bit further..." He grinned, playfully feinting to the left and slapping Ashadel's hip with the flat of his blade as she fell for it, slipping behind her to wrap an arm around her waist as his blade came up, pinning her against him for a fleeting moment before tossing her aside. His stance changed as he tossed his sword aside, motioning for Ashadel to do the same.

"Sorry to ruin your fun..." A feminine voice spoke from just beside Ashadel's ear, the speaker catching Ashadel's fist easily as the younger rogue started and whirled. "... But there's a camp of intruders not far from the city gates. Not very many, but with the youth roaming around, it's best to dispatch them." Kit's eyes fell on Ashadel, a grin forming behind the black leather mask she wore. "You'll come with us, Fawn. Plenty of exercise to be had, instead of picking on ol' Talon."

They departed quickly, sprinting through the city easily. The guards paid them little mind as they passed through the gates, steps slowing when they reached the thicker woods that surrounded the city. Moonlight fell around them in clumps, shielded by the trees themselves. Kit gestured to a spot some yards away where the red glow of a fire was able to be seen, the three rogues ascending the trees to watch from above.

Ashadel could see no more than two, both huddled around the fire in cloaks made for the cooler climate. Their horses stood not far away, tossing their heads at each snap of the campfire. Talon faded from sight, climbing into a thicker area of branches without a sound as Kit slipped next to Ashadel herself, her voice low.

"Two. Their escorts must have left them here. Both male. That one -" She motioned to the smaller figure bundled in his cloak of deep blue, " - may be a healer. The other is a caster of some sort. No demon gives me the impression of a mage, but I don't know." Kit shifted, looking to the branches where Talon had vanished before continuing. "You'll incapacitate the healer. Show me your skills. Talon and I will handle the caster."

Ashadel nodded, dropping lightly to the ground just behind the blue-cloaked male. This close, she could hear them talking in low voices, both of which stopped when a noise from behind the larger male made them look that way. The smaller one rose, gripping his staff in his hands as the cloak fell away, revealing blonde hair and the build of an elf. The other rose as well, stepping off to check what had made the noise. Ashadel's blade raised, hilt poised to strike the remaining intruder, just as her steps faltered, crackling under her shoes clearly heard. She winced as the man whirled, and the world seemed to stand still.

Blue eyes, as clear as a mountain lake stared back at her, the hardened look in his eyes dissolving as she staggered back, the necklace around her neck shining in the firelight as she shook her head. "N-no..." Her eyes could not leave his, not even as he heard a squeal of pain, and a shout. She should help them, she should go to them...

_His fingers were entwined in her silver hair, yanking her head back to allow him room to suckle and bite at her pale neck. Her cries were muffled behind wet, lewd slaps as he pounded himself into her ass, the nails of his free hand scraping down her back before slapping her round, firm ass. Neela screamed..._

Ashadel staggered again, dropping her weapon as her hands went to her head.

_Strong fingers gripped her massive breasts, pulling and squeezing despite her feeble cries for him to stop. How long had he been doing this? She felt abused, couldn't feel her legs anymore, and her pussy had long since ceased feeling anything at all. Still he pounded into her, sinking himself deep into her as he released yet another load into her. Melanie whimpered as he lifted her legs, forcing his slick cock into her ass..._

She screamed, unable to take the images anymore, yet they still assaulted her as she fell to her knees, sobbing. Neela and Melanie's voices, pleading for the pain to stop, burrowed into her mind, making her blind to the danger from behind as Roland, leering at the prone rogue, lifted her own sword and brought it down.


	8. Chapter 8

_**AN:** Uh... yeah, there's some sexual content here. Just sayin'._

* * *

Morning had come and gone before Ashadel woke again, groaning as she rubbed the back of her head. Cursing under her breath and vowing never to drink again, it was only as her feet touched the wooden floor that she realized something was wrong. Unwilling to open her eyes, she slid her feet along the floor, her hand coming from back behind her head to shield her view while her memory seemed to float just out of reach. Her home in Silvermoon had no wooden floors. In fact, she was fairly certain that there was no wood at all in Silvermoon, save for the benches and the decorative shrubs... and the chairs in the tavern and maybe the furniture in some homes.

This fact alone was enough to make her open her eyes the slightest bit, looking around the room she was in and wondering why it seemed so very familiar. Something beside the door caught her attention, and she stood with an absurd amount of effort, grumbling the whole seven steps to the doorway. Her fingers reached out to touch the object, her eyes snapping open and her grumbling ceasing as she realized just what it was.

Hair. The color of pale gold, it had been tied with a deep blue ribbon and left to hang there at the door. It was her hair, the hair she had cut the day she fled...-

Eyes wide, she turned and looked around the room, her hands coming up to cover her mouth as she shook her head. It was her room, the room she had woken in ages ago after fleeing Quel'thalas. The wreath of white flowers still hung above the bed, and the same pale curtains still hung in the window. Nothing had changed, nothing at all. The room spun as Ashadel herself spun, looking around and realizing fully just where she was, and who was far closer than she ever wanted him to be again.

It came as no surprise that she jumped as the door opened, backing up until the bed itself knocked her feet out from under her and forced her to sit. Her breath came out all at once as Michael entered, looking behind him for a moment before closing the door, a basket of fruit and a jug of water in his arms. His scarred lips turned in a smile as he spotted her, coming to sit beside her on the bed.

"Michael..." The jug fell to the floor with a crash, along with all the fruit as she threw herself at him, her arms wrapping around his neck while she buried her face into his collar, clinging to him. The action seemed to take him by surprise; he sat there with his arms open for a moment before his own arms wrapped around her waist, his hands resting on her back as he pulled her to him. They remained like that for what seemed like hours, only moving apart when his hands went to her shoulders and pulled her away.

His eyes scoured her face, hands running along her jaw and smiling as he tousled her thick and short red hair. His fingers slipped beneath the silver chain around her neck, pulling the pendant into view. Tears finally pressed forward as he bent his head over the locket, pressing his lips to the item almost reverently. Those lips were what made her realize something, and she pushed his chin up so she could see better, running her thumb over the scarred flesh.

"You haven't said a word. Even back there... these are burns." His mouth opened a fraction, as if to respond, and she realized fully why he hadn't said a word. Michael had no tongue. Suddenly feeling very sick, she bit her lip against nausea before speaking again. "You..." He shook his head, and she changed the word. "He did this?" A nod. "Because of me?" Michael's head shook far too forcefully, far too quickly.

"I'm so sorry. I should have stayed." He shook his head again, lightly tugging the pendant around her neck as if to remind her of exactly what was lost. She frowned, her eyes going to the floor before snapping back up. "Melanie! She... she's not -..." She stopped at the pained look in his eyes as he turned and pushed the curtains away from the window. Ashadel looked, her heart sinking as she spotted a gravestone, her eyes narrowing as she caught the date etched into the stone. "A week or so after I saw her last, when she left me there... did he hurt her?" Michael nodded, letting the curtains fall back over the window.

There was an uncomfortable silence that seemed to stretch for an eternity before it was broken by a knock on the door, a dwarf male peering in and gesturing for Ashadel to follow. Michael nodded as she looked to him, standing himself and resting a hand on her shoulder for a moment before pressing by both of them. The dwarf grunted as Michael passed, turning to guide the blood elf woman to a room she hadn't been to since her first night at this home.

It was much the same as it had been before. The bed was unmade, the curtains pulled over the windows. A fire was lit in the ornate fireplace, sending waves of nearly overbearing warmth at Ashadel as she stepped into the room, the dwarf closing the door behind her.

"So..." The voice was like ice, barely heard over deep breathing. It came from the far corner of the room, which was shrouded in darkness, even to Ashadel's very keen eyesight. An ear flicked as another shuddering breath was taken, squinting when light flared in her view, dimming as she became used to it. Roland sat in a high backed chair, a deadly smirk playing along his lips while his fingers wound and unwound around a chain that led to two figures just beside him, linked to collars of a solid black ore around the necks of Kit and Talon.

Their bodies were shining in sweat, Kit's black hair plastered to her pale skin. She sat in Talon's lap, her legs spread open and hooked over his own. Her back was against his chest, her head tilted back on his shoulder. Talon's hands were hooked under her knees, supporting her only just over the tip of his rigid and massive erection, poised to lower her, and hilt deep into her slick folds.

Roland only grinned more as Ashadel backed up quickly, slamming her back against the door as he raised a hand, snapping his fingers. The pair groaned, their eyes opening and centering on Ashadel herself, though not nearly focused at all. Kit's arms raised, as if pulled by strings, to fall back around Talon's neck as he lowered her onto himself, sinking halfway into her only to pull out, and repeat. Her mewls of pleasure brought Ashadel from her stupor, her tone cold and angry.

"You can't do that." Her eyes sought out Roland's, trying to ignore her mentors as Roland snapped his fingers again, Kit's moans only growing stronger as Talon began to let her fall completely down onto his cock and the lewd slapping of flesh began an even rhythm through the room. "Stop this. She has a mate..." She backed up further as Roland stood, grasping one of Kit's breasts and kneading it, illiciting a low purr from the rogue.

"Doesn't seem to be thinking about him right now, is she?" He smirked as he released the black-haired woman, stalking close to Ashadel until she was trapped in the corner, his fingers reaching out to run lightly over her lips before he drew away, placing his hands on the mantle of the fireplace. "Don't look at me like that. Like you hate me."

"You killed my sister, harmed Michael, murdered your wife, and now you're... " She looked to Kit and Talon, who were now kissing with such passion that they could have been lovers, and this only infuriated her more. "This is wrong, Roland. Wrong!"

"You could stop it. Stop it all. They've been going at it for several hours... it took a while to break them, but I needed them to get to you. You've got strong will, Fawn... but I will break you. I won't let them leave until you've accepted." His eyes never left the fire, his own black hair lit with a crimson glow from the flames. "I won't let you leave until I know you're mine."

Ashadel growled, now unable to look away as Talon lifted Kit's slim figure up, angling his hips and lowering her once again, grunting while Kit squirmed, her face screwed up in pain as he pushed himself into her ass without much ceremony, giving her only a few seconds of relief before he started thrusting, removing her arms from around his neck and bending her forward slightly. Ashadel was torn, an internal battle waging between logic and fear. Roland noticed this, his hand reaching out and encircling her wrist, pulling her out of the corner and nearer to them. Circling around behind her, he lowered his lips to her ears, his voice a low growl.

"A few simple words, and I'll let them have their release. I'll let them stop. Your word binds you, but frees them. You could have saved your sister, just by bending to me... will you let more blood be on your hands?" He squeezed her shoulders, running his lips over her ear, enjoying the shudder the action brought from her.

"If I stay... If I agree, you will let them go? There will be nobody else. No more victims. Me, and only me." He nodded. "I don't want to remain here. I will come as you call, but I will not remain here, not with these memories, not where their blood is on my hands, and my mind." Her voice was rough, as if fighting back tears, and he could feel her tremble. She turned, finally meeting his eyes again, with a look of steel determination. "Fine. You have my word. My freedom for theirs."

He raised his hand, fingers snapping. Kit and Talon became more frenzied, their actions quicker and more instinct driven. Ashadel looked at them, her mouth open in protest, but he silenced her with a wave of his hand. "I said I would allow them relief... and, you will want their cries in a moment." He had drawn a poker out of the fire, the metal red hot. A moment passed before she realized it was not just a poker, but one of the old cattle brands. He stepped back to her, his hands grabbing her own as he forced her against the wall, raising and pinning her arms over her head so the tunic she wore was lifted, her creamy skin bare.

"This? This is going to hurt." He growled into her ear, lowering his lips to her neck. She felt the warmth of the poker, her body shaking as her eyes clamped shut, and then everything happened at once. Talon released deep within Kit's ass, the woman herself shrieking in pleasure as it drew her own orgasm from her, their cries mingling and nearly drowning out Ashadel's single, long cry of torturous pain as the brand pressed into the skin above her left hip, leaving the strong smell of burned flesh amidst that of sex.

Roland laughed as the blood elf screamed herself hoarse, and fell unconcious, completely unaware of anything as he lifted her onto his bed after tossing the brand back into the fire. A word was whispered, Kit and Talon's exhausted forms fading from view as the cantrip returned them to their city, where the guards would be quite surprised to find both of them in a daze, naked and chained in the massive fountain in the Court of the Sun. Roland took a final look at Ashadel before leaving the room.

He had many, many plans for her.


	9. Chapter 9

_**AN:** Asha's induction to the place she was introduced in back in chapter one. I have this guild to thank for getting her past level ten (God, I'm glad I did it then, because leveling a rogue now is comparable to branding your genitals now...). Also, can we say psychosis? Psychoseseses? Bah. Fluff chapter, regardless._

* * *

Weeks had passed since Roland had claimed her. How many, she couldn't be sure. Her body ached, the many layers of bandages hidden beneath her leathers doing nothing to ease the pain. Each step she took was as if she had set herself in a box of hot needles, flaring wildly if she moved too quickly. In the side-car of the mechano-hog she was riding in, she took care to keep her eyes away from the shadow-caressed figure guiding her... somewhere.

She couldn't understand what she was doing. The choice to seek him out had been sudden, almost completely random, fueled only by the posters she had seen all over Silvermoon for weeks previous to that moment. She had considered it; the thought of having people to talk to, to enjoy laughter again... it was a tempting proposition. Perhaps that was what had convinced her to find him. Maybe, just maybe, he and his followers would have what she desperately needed.

There was something else, as well. Roland's attentions had made her fearful of strangers, and especially outside contact. Yet she had allowed this man, Doru, to touch her. It had been like fire, his touch. Not painful, but merely warm and almost soothing. In that small moment, she wanted nothing more than to be near this man, and it terrified her.

She winced as they ran over the bones and corpses, the crunching noises beneath the motor of the vehicle echoing in the pain that coursed through her with each jerk or bump. This was insane. He could be leading her to a place that would make Roland look tame, and yet she was going willingly, like a beast to the slaughter. Chancing a glance at Doru himself, she watched him while he drove, ignoring her hair as it blurred her vision a few times.

There it was again. That yearning feeling to just be right there. She shook her head, sitting back in her seat as the area around them became more wooded and dark, eerie howls and whispered moans echoing through the forest. Still he drove, taking them both to a place she wasn't quite familiar with, guiding her up to the uppermost floors of a large building. He disappeared inside, leaving her to scramble out of the side-car and follow, now feeling quite scared and out of her element.

"Come here, girl."

He was waiting for her beside a circle, a hood in his hands. The shadows were coiling around him, brushing against him almost affectionately for a few brief moments before dispersing. His lips were turned in a smile, surely meant to be soothing and calm her, but it only made her more nervous. He held out the hood as she obeyed, trotting forward with an obedience normally reserved only for Roland himself.

"Put this on, after you've given me your name."

"Ashadel." Once again, his command was followed. She became blinded, the world dark as the thick silk of the hood stifled not just her vision, but even her hearing. She felt his hands on her shoulders, the gentle pressure once again calming her slightly as he guided her a few steps forward, into the runed circle.

"Lay down, Ashadel. When this is over, you will arise feeling far more powerful than you do now."

She sank down, first to her knees and then to her back, nervously chewing her bottom lip and closing her eyes, trying her best to steady her breath. His command for her to open her mouth was followed, and she grimaced at the liquid that sank through the cloth and into her open mouth. The thought of poison crossed her mind, if only for the briefest of moments, before it was dismissed. Poison was sometimes bitter, as this liquid was, but it wasn't cool, with a nearly electric feel to it.

The sound of rustling caught her attention, as if clothes were being exchanged for others. Her long ears, caught in the silk fabric, twitched in an attempt to listen for more, but nothing came but the sound of movement, soft shoes upon the floor. Then, all sound faded, and she felt the briefest flash of pain before all became black.

When she opened her eyes again, she didn't remember even that small flash of pain. She could smell blood, but that didn't disturb her nearly as much as the complete absence of agony that she had become accustomed to since Roland had gotten his claws into her. The slightest thought of tearing her clothes from her and finding out the reason as to why this was flew quickly into her mind, being chased out as she heard Doru's soft, yet commanding voice.

"Arise, Acolyte. Remove your hood."

She was all too happy to remove the stuffy hood, taking a deep breath of fresh air to clear her senses of the blood she had smelled and felt. Doru stood beside her, his expression blank as he gestured back to the circle. A pool of blood, larger than most she had seen, was spread across the circle.

"That is your blood."

A voice told her she should have been surprised, but she wasn't. Blood was nothing new to her, and her response was a mere shrug before looking to him, searching for even the smallest of reasons as to why she should care. It never came, though he looked impressed at her dismissal of the blood. They remained silent for a few more moments before he moved to leave, the side-car popping out as he gestured for her to hop in. She cast a final glance around the room before following, her fingers slipping behind to graze the skin where her brand should have been... and yet it wasn't. Her mind opened in a silent oath, even as she cursed the pain she knew she would receive when she next met Roland.

"_I don't understand this. I don't understand, but I will obey. I will follow, I will be loyal. I will be … everything I can be. If not for me, then for you, Master Doru."_


	10. Chapter 10

_**AN:** The chapter that came before this in my first posting on another site is a dream chapter that fed on Asha's obvious attraction to Doru, her Headmaster. I've opted to keep it out because it is really, really explicit and there's no way I could tame it down. A shame, because it was my favorite of the first part of this story. However, I adore this one too, where Asha gains her first friend and... well, you'll see._

* * *

"Who!"

The whip came down, a grunt of pain leaving the rogue chained to the wall. It would have been a scream, but she was hoarse by now, unable to answer even if she could. How many lashes had she endured so far? Three more joined the countless others, and she felt her vision fading. The fire across her back and legs was becoming more of a warmth, the pain sharp but dancing away as blackness threatened to consume her vision. Would this be the end?

She heard the whip being raised again, a great bellow of anger leaving Roland as it came down... and never landed. The mirror on the wall she had been chained to gave her the view she could not herself see; Roland's whip was curled around Michael's arm, a clear battle of wills going on between the two men. Roland sorely wanted to continue, this she could see. He wanted her to feel pain, agony, maybe even death for the betrayal he felt. Michael's message was clear. If Roland continued, he would kill her.

Roland's eyes met hers in the mirror, and he growled low. Dropping the whip, he stormed out of the room and house, only the neigh of a horse the sign he had gone. Michael wasted no time, supporting her blood-soaked body to the bed once he had removed the chains that bound her wrists together. His hands swept over her back with a cloth, and she knew he was trembling Or maybe she was... she didn't know. That dull warmth was spreading, consuming her little by little, a peace that beckoned to her as if it were a lover.

Michael's silent prayers were being answered, the muscle beneath her torn flesh knitting itself, the skin lacing back together and yet never quite sealing completely, leaving a mark. He nearly drained himself, keeping her from crossing that brink, and he hated himself for it. It would be so easy to just guide her into an eternal rest, to let her pain end. She'd hate him for it.

Ashadel groaned, her eyes closing as images flashed briefly across her mind, a single question overpowering all else. "_Why can't I remember his name?"_

…

She had caught sight of him from across the Bazaar, or perhaps it had merely been the money pouch hanging at his side just visible beneath his cape that did it. Regardless, her curiousity had been piqued greatly, and she sauntered over to the cowled male, catching the familiar glow that made those known as "Death Knights" stand out. Her mind flashed briefly to times when she had those eyes, eyes the color of pure mana, and she shook them away without another thought.

"Looking for something?" She was just behind him, now. Her fingers were already reaching for the pouch at his side, fully expecting him to turn and catch her, but he didn't. His eyes were elsewhere, looking around the city with a detached sort of air, as if he wasn't fully sure he was really there. She had opened his pouch by now, standing at his side as delicate fingers nimbly lifted a few coins from the meager pile within the pouch, securing them tightly in her fist.

"Not really. Just... remembering." His voice and tone made her stop for a moment, her head tilting as he spoke. "Feels strange being somewhere I was once welcome, only now I'm only tolerated. Friends and lovers gone... just like the coins in my pouch." The amused tone was matched by the smirk creasing his lips as his head turned to look down at her. Ashadel grinned a bit sheepishly, offering the coins she had lifted back.

"Wasn't aware there were honest thieves here." He took the coins, pocketing them again before folding his arms over his chest. "Only when they are caught, I suppose." She nodded, stepping so she stood in front of him, her arms linked behind her back as she bent forward to look him in the eye.

"How about a drink? You look like you have a lot on your mind, and it's the least I could do as an apology for letting my fingers get away with me." She turned on her heel, wiggling said fingers as she set an easy pace towards the tavern in Murder Row. The steady clank of steel on stone told her that he was following, even if he hadn't said a thing.

The tavern was empty, for once. She paid for more than enough drink to make even the most tolerant dwarf topple over in a pile of his own sick, coming to seat herself on the floor next to one of the many couches that the ebon knight had already claimed. He took one of the many drinks offered, settling back to look down at her, a brow perked.

"You can sit up here, you know. I won't bite... hard." The smirk was clear beneath his cowled hood, even as he took a long drink of the alcohol she had purchased. Ashadel simply shook her head, taking a sip of her own mead before sitting back against the wall. The knight was relentless, however, soon coaxing the rogue from her place on the floor to beside him on the couch where he easily lifted the now-drunken girl into his lap, despite her feeble protests and girlish blushes.

How many more drinks they consumed was lost to both of them as they talked and laughed, watching tavern patrons come and go with looks of either raging disgust or pensive curiousity aimed at the two.  
Evening had slipped to midnight, and then even to early morning before Ashadel managed to squirm from his lap, taking his gauntleted hand and stumbling from the tavern towards the open Court of the Sun where they both sat on one of the open benches.

"So... I'm curious. What's your story?" His cowl had fallen back slightly in their drunken stupor, and her eyes narrowed briefly as he finally pushed it back, her jaw dropping in surprise for a moment while the knight ruffled his raven black hair. He caught the look, a grin crossing his lips as she stared. "Hmm?"

"You... haven't met the Headmaster, have you?" She shook her head as if to clear it as he did the same, though for a different reason. "Ah. You... you look similar." It was an understatement. The knight was a bit paler than Doru, but they shared the same rich black hair in the same style, the same facial structure, the same - … Ashadel broke the chain of thought as he repeated himself. Her eyes narrowed again for the briefest of moments before she sighed, and told him everything. Her past, and her present.

He listened with an intensity that she was not entirely used to, his eyes betraying the feelings and emotions he felt for each of her hardships. Those same eyes opened in shock as she removed her tabard, slipping the flimsy leather off of her torso to bare the marks of her suffering and shame to him as if they were a badge of courage and of proof. She trembled as his gauntlet covered hand reached out, sliding over those marks with a barely suppressed sort of rage that she had yet to see with anyone else.

"You've never... felt pleasure?" They were a whisper, those words. "Never once?" She shook her head, looking at the stone beneath their feet for a moment. It pained her to admit that small fact, that she never knew pleasure at the hands of a man, and was so frequently in pain that she hadn't the slightest desire to do it for herself. Only in dreams had she felt even the smallest glimmer, and that wasn't quite enough... and an idea suddenly came to her. It was random, and would likely get her in trouble later, but she needed something.

"Hurt me." She glanced back over her shoulder, her eyes pleading with him. "I want something else to see when he hurts me. If I feel pain, I want to see a different face." Her mind fled to a time not long ago, when she had conjured the image of her Headmaster while Roland had ravaged her. The Death Knight looked shocked at her request, and for a moment she thought he would call the guards on her, until his gauntlet came to rest on her back, a low warning of what was to come given, and then she felt it.

A pain so cold it was fire, lancing through her like a thousand small needles. She tasted blood, knowing all to well that the whimpers were her, the muffled cries of torment silenced behind lips crimson with her own blood. With this pain, she cemented his face in her mind, knowing that it would come forward easily forever after. She felt his arms circle around her, keeping her from falling over as he held her against him, soothing her shudders. How long they sat like that, she hadn't a clue. The taste of blood had finally left her mouth when she felt the pressure of his lips on hers.

It was a timid sort of contact, waiting for her response before doing anything more, and she found herself yielding to it, her eyes closing as the kiss deepened and became warm, a shocking difference to the chill she had felt from the man all through the night. Her hands rose to settle on each side of his jaw, and she felt his fingers curl in her hair lightly, gently.

_Wait... this is wrong..._

That simple thought rang through her mind like a knife through butter, and she broke the kiss, squirming from his lap to look at him with an expression of both confusion and fear before she turned and ran, uncaring of where she ended up. When she finally stopped, sitting down on cold stone in the dark catacombs she now called home, she curled up tightly and rocked, eyes shut tight though it did nothing to blind her to the confusion roiling in her stomach.

_He never told me his name..._


	11. Chapter 11

**AN:** After some debating, I kept this one in. It was sweet and needed, and really shows the bond forged between Marric and Asha. One of many bonds, really. And, yeah. It's for mature audiences.

* * *

He had carried her up the ramp earlier that night, the rogue nearly incapable of moving herself at this point, having thrown back far too many drinks in her little corner of the bar while he watched from up above. His approaching had startled her, but they settled into the conversation easily, as if they were friends from a long time past. Names were exchanged, common courtesies were met, and now he was laying her down on the bed in the room he had rented. She only laughed, sitting up and taking off her clothes slowly. It was half inebriated joke, and half timid curiousity. In her drunken stupor, she wanted nothing more than to see if he would repeat his actions of their first meeting; if he would kiss her, and send another wave of addicting confusion through her.

Something cleared her mind a little; the brush of his fingers on her skin. It was there again, a gentle friction between his skin and the many scars that littered her form. Her breath caught as he trailed those fingers lightly around the swell of one breast, roaming dangerously close to one sensitive and erect nipple before falling down along her side to her hip. Fel-green eyes snapped to his own, a voice registering in the back of her mind that he was now on top of her, his raven black hair mingling with her own crimson strands.

"Marric..." She was almost ashamed of the fear laced in that single name, the cruel blush of shame creeping across her cheeks. He merely smiled, his fingers overlapping and then tracing her lips as if in wonder before he spoke. "Mallac. For tonight, please call me Mallac. It was my name before the change." Then he kissed her, a tender contact that both calmed and aroused her. When he pulled away at least, it was only to mutter an agreement as his nose brushed her jaw, lips parted to brush along her neck. "I'll stop if you tell me to, Ashadel."

His fingers briefly entwined in her own before he was touching her again, drawing slow lines down her arm, to her side and then to her hips where his hands kneaded for a few moments. Eyes of pale blue scoured her, hiding anger at the blemishes marking her skin easily. With his hands on her hips, his lips began to trail along her flesh, drawing low groans as he explored her neck and collar. It became evident why his hands were where they were when she tried to arch up against him, his firm grip holding her down until the message was clear. _This is for you..._

Lower still his lips trailed, planting soft kisses along the swell of one breast. A soft whimper left her as he lapped at one erect nipple, a smile creasing his lips as she shuddered and closed her eyes, yielding further to him. Taking the small bud into his mouth, his hand left her hip, gripping her other breast and lightly kneading it, delighting in the soft mewls that left her.

Her fingers slid up along his clothed arms, breathing ragged as the digits tangled in his lengthy hair. She glanced at him, meeting his eyes briefly until the contact was broken and his touch trailed further down, gentle nips given to her stomach and inner thighs. He stopped as her legs snapped closed, a look of honest confusion offered. She shook her head, a trembling apology given through mere eye contact.

Words, for once, were lost to the rogue. At the same time, they seemed completely useless when he so easily understood even the smallest movements she managed. Once again he moved, parting her legs and drawing fingers daringly close to her moist netherlips, grinning impishly at her near frustrated whimper when they would dance away to circle the sensitive flesh of her inner thighs. Over and over he goaded her, teasing her until she had closed her eyes and taken a deep breath in order to hold back the desire to slap him.

The breath was released in a sharp gasp as his teeth gently nipped the lips of her sex, her fingers gripping the sheets tightly while he repeated the action a few more times, varying the placement to keep her surprised. Another whimper left her when his tongue trailed the same path he had just nipped, and she was sure she heard him chuckle when her hips bucked, forcing him to hold her down as he explored deeper, always trailing close to the hidden pearl and yet never coming quite close enough. "_Fucking tease..."_

When he gingerly sank first two, then three fingers into her, she moaned out loud. His tongue finally found and eagerly teased the tiny nub of nerves while his fingers slowly pumped in and out, drawing along the bundle of nerves within her on each withdrawal. A sharp grunt halted her hand as it moved to cover her mouth, his eyes clearly forbidding her from muffling her noises as he drew his tongue rather roughly along her swollen clit, tearing a near shriek of pleasure from her.

She wanted to cry, the pleasure was so intense. His fingers and tongue worked in unison with her, drawing whimpers and moans from her as easy as drawing a fishing line in from the sea. An ache began to form, growing stronger with each pulse of his fingers until she was fairly clutching at those digits with her walls, moans giving way to small pleas for release. He drew up alongside her, cradling her against him as he slipped a fourth finger into her, stretching her walls and running his thumb along her pearl until all at once, he was pressing both nerve bundles.

Her moans became muffled against his lips as he silenced her orgasm with a kiss, not stopping her as she bucked against his hand. In fact, he drew it out, bringing her over the edge not just once, but twice, leaving her panting and writhing in his arms. When she finally stopped convulsing, his lips left hers, kissing her forehead and cheeks lightly.

Ashadel felt... weak. His hand trailed along her back, soothing her even further until she was lost to a dream, asleep in his arms. Marric smiled, drawing the blankets up around them and holding her securely against him as he followed her into sleep.

When morning dawned, and Marric finally awoke, it was to an empty bed. On the pillow beside him, just out of reach of his raven hair splayed over the pillow, was a crimson rose, held in place by the weight of a gold coin. He chuckled, running fingers over both of them, and his eyes closed once again. In the streets below, Ashadel gave the inn a final glance, her eyes drifting to where the room would be placed if there was a window before she turned on her heel, drawing her cloak over her head as she pushed through the crowds in Murder Row.


	12. Chapter 12

AN: This was the last of the rituals that were used by the guild. I always felt a bit bad for the mild (major *cough*) meta-gaming involved, and I'm not really proud that I ever aided in it, but that's not really the focus.

I really wonder what the heck Ash saw in Doru, some days. *shrug*

* * *

"_Ashadel, go to the initiation grounds and clear them for our arrival." _

The intense concentration with which the rogue had been absorbed in during her sparring broke with the smooth voice and command that filtered into her mind. It was the opening her opponent, a young paladin, needed, quickly slapping her blades from her hands and leaving small wounds across the sides. His eyes went wide at the blood, quickly darting forward with an apology as he summoned the healing energies to close the superficial scratches. She merely smiled, looking off down the road.

"It's alright. Had this been real, a few scratches on my hands would be the least of what I would have expected. Never be sorry for striking first." With a sharp whistle that made the boy clap his hands to his sensitive ears in pain, she summoned her newly purchased hawkstrider, another smile of pride crossing her lips. The bird never even stopped as she gripped the reins, pulling herself up and directing the beast to their destination. The young paladin simply looked after her, until a hand clapped on his shoulder and a jovial laugh drew him into sparring with another trainee.

There was something peaceful about Eversong Woods. Her strider made little noise as it stepped into the Dead Scar, fully aware that his rider was changing from her leathers into the more comfortable black pants and shirt that were required during these times. His steps were light, jarring her little as skulls and bones crunched beneath his feet. Ashadel enjoyed taking this path, because it reminded her of how far she had come. When he beckoned her to go to the place where their initiations were held, it was by the same path he had taken her that first time that she traveled.

She was securing her weapons back at her sides when the area became darker and more eerie. Ryoo's quick pace slowed as they traversed the damaged land, slipping between trees that hooked gnarled branches into her hair as if wanting to tear her from the bird's back. Ashadel hated this place, along with the memories that came with it. She only breathed easier when her mount's claws began tapping along the wooden bridge that led to the small, utterly dead, village of Goldenmist. Slipping from the black hawkstrider's back, Ashadel made her way through the area, silencing the mourning ghosts easily. The Headmaster had not made it clear who was accompanying him, but she knew all too well that the aggressive spirits would have no qualms about attacking what they viewed as easy prey. So she laid them all to rest.

By the time she made it to the top of the large dwelling that housed the rune where her own blood had been spilled those many weeks ago, she could already hear the distant thrum of the motor of her Headmaster's motorbike. Perching herself on one of the old cushions, she merely watched as he made his way in, an elven woman with red hair, another with her blonde hair up in a jeweled clasp who she recognized as Tessyn, an earlier initiate, and a lioness with sandy brown fur following. Last, with the clank of metal on ancient stone came a taller figure in the garb of an ebon knight. Her heart plummeted as he glanced her way, his lips curling in a smirk beneath the hood he wore. Time froze, and she was sure her heart would jump from her chest with how hard it was beating. "_No... oh please, no."_

He looked away, and she gradually began to breathe again. Doru was speaking to Tessyn, explaining to her that he did not believe her quite ready to carry out the initiation ceremony just yet. Tessyn didn't seem to happy about it, frowning as she took her own silken hood from him and came to sit beside Ashadel. Or would have, if Doru hadn't beckoned to the rogue with his eyes, already holding out the other two hoods to Marric and the red-headed elf. She trotted obediently to him, a wan smile given to Marric as he dropped the hood over his own head, and sat himself in the rune with his back to the red-head.

"_I can't do this, I can't do this..." _It wasn't a thought, it was a primal cry in the back of her brain, as if she was trying to stop a raging beast with twine as her reins. She had never before had such thoughts, not since her first initiation mere days after her own, where Doru had handed her the spiked mace just as he was doing now. Terror flooded her. Bragg had been a no one. She hadn't known him before, and her reluctance was because he was a Tauren, and noble... not to mention fuzzy. This was someone who had been kind to her, had shown sympathy to her plight, and had -...

"Ashadel."

His voice wasn't stern. It wasn't filled with worry. It was just his voice, and she drew on that. Drew on the strength her Headmaster had within him, and by extension, her. She kept her gaze unfocused, knowing all too well that the man sitting before her, not knowing what she was about to do, was likely thinking about her, if not looking up at her. She knew he'd see nothing. It could be anyone else standing in front of him with a mace held high. "_It isn't, though. It's me. I'm going to hurt the only person who has cared... oh, please forgive me. Please!"_

Doru looked to her, and she nodded, her face an impassive mask despite her thoughts and emotions tumbling out of control. Together, their maces came down. Together, they severed the life from the two elves sitting in the rune with their arms linked. Alone, Ashadel bit back a sob as she felt the sickening crunch, saw the blood staining the hoods the two wore, noted Tessyn's jump at the noise of mace connecting with skull.

"_Please forgive me. Please forget..." _

The low growl of the lioness that had entered with Doru, and had been quite plastered to his side the whole time, broke her from her thoughts. She turned, walking to the wall and dropping the spiked mace beneath a table, using the furniture to steady herself. Breathing seemed hard, even now. The worst was over. If they were anything like her, they wouldn't remember a thing. Doru had stopped leaving blood on the floor some time ago, a fact she thought about now with relief. She didn't turn away until she was sure she could handle it, and was greeted by the sight of Doru calling them both back. She watched, with some sickened curiousity, as the blood that had pooled around them seeped back into lifeless corpses. She knew that beneath the hoods, gore was piecing itself back together, skulls becoming intact, hair regrowing over wounds...

Yet Doru, who she had rarely seen without being surrounded by the shadows that normally caressed him, was now surrounded in a holy energy that seemed to spill out of him. He looked, in some ways, at peace, as though he had done this countless numbers of times before. He looked, in some way, beautiful.

She shook her head, shaking the thoughts of her fancy out of her head as the two in the rune groaned, shaking their own heads and drawing the hoods off of themselves at Doru's command. She kept her eyes averted from Marric, though she could feel his eyes on her. The red-head seemed more alive than before, flashing a smile before excusing herself rather quickly. Ashadel made a mental note to catch her name when she next saw her. Tessyn fairly tore the hood from her head as Doru called to her, taking down his message and running quick as the wind out to deliver it.

Ashadel turned to leave, thinking it over, and nearly fell over as she was met by another male in plate, his black hair swept over one shoulder. The tabard he wore was one she knew given only to those who had excelled in their training under the Blood Knights, and for some reason it seemed so out of place that she was stunned for a moment before he pushed past her with a small smile, quickly starting up a conversation with the Headmaster. She wasn't paying attention to the whole thing, leaning back against the wall near the door, her eyes outside on the river.

"Who will do this?"

Ushi, the lioness, growled low again. It was a sound the rogue recognized as uncertainty, even fear. She didn't blame the creature, if she was to be honest. Initiations were tense, frightening moments. To watch the blood pool at your feet, blood of someone who could be close to you, defend you one day with a blade that would just as easily take your life right then... to know that there was a chance, even the smallest, that you wouldn't hear the call of the Headmaster's command. That you would not walk the land of the living again... oh yes, it was terrifying. Ashadel, normally so eager to serve Doru, found herself unable to raise her voice in reply as the question was asked again, but the low voice that responded only made her wish she had spoken faster.

Her eyes went back to the circle as Marric hefted the mace, recognizing the kneeling figure in the middle of the circle as the Paladin who had entered just moments before."_How long was I not paying attention...?" _Despite herself, despite seeing such a thing done by her own pale hands countless times before, she winced as the mace came down, heard that sickening sound of crushing bone and torn flesh... and then a moan. Her ears flicked as the corpse spoke. "By... the Light." Her eyes shooting to see Doru's eyes wide, his pale skin making her stomach turn. "_He's not dead!" _She felt the mental cry, as much as a sharp gasp just beside her.

Tessyn had returned, her skin white as a sheet as her mouth gaped, eyes wide as she tried to comprehend what was going on. There was no doubt of the fear and repulsion within her, so strong that it could be felt easily over the bond that lived within every Cultist. Ashadel's heart went out to her, a hand raising to catch the woman and pull her back, out of the room if need be, but everyone was moving at once. Ushi had growled in warning, coiled as if to spring at the newcomer, fangs bared. Doru groaned, already moving to bar the grotesque view of the Paladin from Tessyn's view even as she spoke. "What... what have you done!" Then he groaned again, and it was as if the woman had been male and kicked in the groin her voice shot up in such a way. "He's still alive!" She moved, and everything seemed to be spurred by that one tiny action.

Ushi lunged, claws out and fangs bared, clear over the prone Paladin. Her massive bulk hit the hunter like a wall, and Ashadel winced at the solid crack that sounded as Tessyn's head connected with the floor, leaving her dazed and defenseless as the lioness went for her neck. It was possible, in that short span of time, that the rogue could have simply stabbed the beast, but instead she threw herself forward, her body over the barely concious Tessyn, shoving her arm length-wise into the lioness' mouth. She felt leather tear, felt teeth work against her skin, slowly grinding and piercing. If the beast closed her mouth even the slightest, she'd be trapped for good, and completely at her mercy.

It was curious, the way time slowed, and her hearing dulled to the outside world, instead focusing on the blood rushing in her ears. The pain that was lancing through her arm was different than what she'd ever felt with Roland, or maybe it was simply because she had never willingly shoved her hand into a lioness' mouth before. "_Take my arm already, or get off!" _She hated waiting, hated being held so close to being defenseless. Her free arm had slipped under Tessyn, holding the larger woman close, and in some ways, morbidly holding herself to her life. There was something amusing about the struggle, or perhaps that was just Ashadel losing her mind.

Then, all the pressure on her arm was gone with a painful yank and surprised yelp from the feline. Ashadel wanted to laugh at the image of the large cat hanging by her tail above the runed circle, Doru's calling reaching out to the fallen Paladin to bring him back, whole, to them. She barely registered Marric's sly grin as he looked up at the captive cat now growling and spitting in fear before she was dropped rather unceremoniously next to the Headmaster. Her mind was, for the most part, on Tessyn. For the first time ever, the rogue had the deepest resentment for herself. This could have been prevented, if she hadn't been so wrapped up in herself! Never again!

She didn't dare look up as the Headmaster reprimanded the lioness, or when the Paladin stood, a cry leaping from his throat about the new power he felt within him. It was dark power, they all knew it, but he enjoyed it, claiming it made him feel more alive. She didn't dare look up as discussions were made to return to Silvermoon. She only looked up as she felt Doru move past her, a cord around her heart tightening as she saw what she believed was a look of disappointment. Then he was gone, and she wouldn't look up again, not as Ushi padded by her, not as Marric slowed beside her, looking as if to stop before he moved on. It was only the Paladin's voice that brought her from where she had begun to hide within herself. "Let me take a look at her."

Ashadel shifted, letting Tessyn lay down with her head in her lap as he worked quickly. When he was done, he too left. The room seemed so much smaller while Ashadel waited for the messenger to wake up, patiently biding her time despite the very real desire to hide away somewhere quiet, where she could let her own mind heal from the pain of failure. She didn't have long to wait, a rare smile tugging at her lips as Tessyn's eyes opened, confusion and then fear flashing as she sat up, shifting away from the rogue. Ashadel knew that what she felt wasn't something that the woman was implying, but she felt dirty.

"They... he kills them? All of them, all of us?" The fear in her voice was so very evident that it silenced the rogue for a time, only able to mutely nod. "Why?" There was a tremor there, and despite the very honest desire to comfort the terrified woman, Ashadel couldn't bring herself to do so outwardly. "I... I don't know. I couldn't tell you. He believes that only in death are we reborn, I assume." Tessyn shifted uncomfortably, her voice low. "Did he... kill me?" Ashadel shrugged, her answer at least honest. "I don't remember."

"I know that when you first came here, you weren't happy being told that you weren't ready. I... I'm a little jealous of that. I wasn't given that choice, or that command. Three nights after I was initiated, I was handed the mace and made to do the same to another." She was looking at her hands, seeing the blood on them even though it had been cleaned long ago. "It was terrifying then, and each time it doesn't get any easier. I did as he commanded, and I felt guilt. I can't... deny that whatever he does makes us all stronger." Her eyes went to Tessyn's, pleading without words for the woman to understand. "That fact doesn't make it any easier. I believe that he has given you a choice. While he didn't give it to me, for whatever reason, he has given it to you. Talk to him. Tell him you will do anything, deliver any message... but you can't do this. I believe he will listen. I believe he will understand."

She couldn't explain why she had said those words, and she knew she wouldn't. Despite it, she could tell that they had eased Tessyn, the messenger nodding briefly and giving her a shaky smile. "I'll... I'll do that." There was a pause, a lingering one that left Ashadel sitting there because she knew there was more to be said. "Will you... make sure he doesn't hurt me again? He trusts you. I can see it, even if it isn't said. I just don't... want that done again." Ashadel nodded, even though her heart was beating wildly. "I promise."

Tessyn smiled again, rising and stretching. "I think I'll go find him, and talk to him. Thank you." As she turned to leave, the rogue watched her go with an honest smile this time. Her disappointment in herself, for everything that had been done in the last few hours, melted with those simple words.

"He trusts me."


	13. Chapter 13

AN: If you've been reading By Fang and Spell, you'll see similar names within the next few chapters. That's because the Caravan that appears is in both stories, though this is where they made their debut. Some names were changed between the two stories, I'll note them for those who really care. /end random.

* * *

"You're an idiot."

It was said to no one in particular, as the speaker was the only one present. Ashadel only sighed as she clambered over yet another large tree-root, remaining sullenly silent after her own reprimand. Days had passed since she had fled the common hall that she knew as her home, leaving behind her precious tabard and a note of only three words. She was unable to even recall how long she had been out, only knowing that the longer she stayed away, the longer she risked the wrath of Roland.

"It was only a dance. He could have just been distracted! There's plenty of reasons why he wouldn't say anything." The verbal reprimands were doing nothing for her. "Now you're out here, in the middle of enemy territory, having not slept properly for days, and you're expecting someone to give half a kodo-rear?" She grunted, having landed oddly on her feet. "Don't even know this area that well. Stupid! Someone could get hurt. Someone could need you."

She laughed at that, going so far as to stop, her hands on her knees. "Oh, yes. Ignore me for weeks, then suddenly need me? If they so desperately need me, then they can come find me. He can find me. He knows all he has to do is ask." Ashadel brushed hair out of her face, breathing deeply. "Still don't see why you care, silly girl. So he's likely bedding a troll. That shouldn't matter to you, not one bit."

"But it does. The mere fact that he's sleeping with someone that you've never seen before drives you mad. You aren't jealous, and you shouldn't be. You're just confused. You could admit it... maybe you really are in lo- …" She stopped, her fists clenching as she whirled, knuckles scraping against the bark of a tree. "No. Start that, and I could say the same about any of them. I could be in love with him, or Roland, or even Marric. I'm not, though. Care, yes. I care about the lot of them. I won't love any of them." Her fist uncurled, palm splaying along the tree. "This is why Neela married first. This is why. I just don't understand. I don't need feelings to share a bed. I don't need feelings to tell a lie. It still confuses me. Why... why do I care?"

The only noise, the only answer, that met her was a howl that sent her skin crawling. Another howl met the first, and then a chorus of them were ringing around her. Her long ears flicked, picking up the slightest of noises nearby, noting how much closer the howls were coming, and how close the prey was. Dropping to a crouch, she pulled her daggers, waiting patiently. They were herding the catch this way, and she would fight them for it.

"Help!"

The word, nearly a shriek, made her pause. The accent was clearly common, something she could only understand thanks to the time with Roland, but it was young. Too young to be an able hunter. Her eyes went to the edge of the clearing as a figure tumbled out, tripping over his own feet to land in a tangled pile of limbs too large for a child, but not large enough to be a man. "H-Help!" It was another cry, one that cut her to the core. She could walk away now, let the wolves take their prey, and not be a traitor to the Horde. She could let this child perish, a death fitting for humans who could turn out just like Roland... it would be easy. So easy. She would hate herself for an eternity. Especially when his head came up, eyes the color of amber meeting hers, the very real fear within them so familiar to her that it was as if she was in his place. He could walk away so easy... leave her there to die. Leave her there...

The first wolf crashed through the brush, another howl given, a triumphant one. Three more joined the first, all now whining and pawing, eager for the kill that could have been their first real meal for days. Ashadel's eyes went back to the boy, who hadn't let his gaze leave her. He was pleading, silently. His mouth moved slowly, mouthing words she understood clearly. Not in common, but in her own language. He knew Thalassian!

She and the first wolf moved as one, her extra burst of speed got her there first, throwing herself over the young boy, dagger coming up to slice cleanly through one ear of the beast. It yelped, pulling away and back to the pack, which had grown larger. Twelve, a large pack for the area, likely banded together to aid in catching food that had become rarer and rarer. Twelve wolves, one now wounded. They stood there, fur standing on end as the first fell behind, whimpering.

Her legs shifted, crouching in front of the boy, her own growl leaving her. Her sword had been drawn now, her dagger hand creeping slowly behind her to tap the boy, pointing to the wall that was hidden behind vines. She saw him nod, his own movements slow to push himself up, ready to lunge for safety. Climb the vines, get away from the predators. She changed her mind at that moment, realizing that while he was not old enough to hunt on his own, he was no doubt learning. Someone, somewhere, was missing their baby.

She lunged forward as the boy raced the other way for the wall, hand over hand and up the vines as easily as a monkey would climb a tree. Her sword came up, silencing the howl of one wolf in a clean stroke, twisting beneath the jaws of another to plunge her dagger into it's heart. Pain lanced through her arm, a yelp of surprise leaving her as she was tugged off to her side, barely rolling from another attack. She could feel the blood racing down her arm, making her grip shaky and undependable. Jaws closed around her ankle, bringing a shriek of pain from her.

A shriek that was answered by a very feline roar, the wolves yelping and scattering as three large forms entered the clearing. The smallest lunged towards her, pressure increasing around her ankle and then releasing, a spray of blood clouding her vision, vision that was becoming weaker as the minutes passed. The wolves were gone, the largest feline standing in the center of the clearing, watching the young boy as he descended the wall. Words were being exchanged, but she couldn't see the speaker. Pain was racing through her body, becoming duller.

Her eyes met those of the boy as he came closer, making her wince as his hands closed around the wound on her arm. "Sorry... sorry..." It was her language he spoke, amber eyes clouding with tears while he looked over the rest of her. A large hand brushed over her face, muttering words she couldn't understand. She did, however, understand the warmth that was sliding through her. The boy was looking past her now, at whoever was healing her. His words were too fast, far too fast for her sluggish mind to follow.

There was no pain as someone lifted her, placing her across the back of something very large and furry, with a lumbering gait. The boy had pulled himself up as well, arms wrapping around her while he held her in place. She caught the sight of the largest and smallest felines racing out in front of them before darkness took her, and she slept.


	14. Chapter 14

_**AN:** These chapters seemed so much longer when originally posted. Yeesh._

_Gretta returns in Fang and Spell as Greta. Zenixia returns in Fang and Spell as Eaxoa. Ry'lien returns in Fang and Spell as Ry'lien. Temis will make a later appearance as Baena in Fang and Spell, Una'lei makes a return as Ara'vaelyn and even later, Minyel. Tanner does not make a return, but his older brother does, as Jacob._

_This chapter was well received in the original format; people -really- started to loathe Roland._

* * *

"She may have saved one of ours, but it doesn't mean she would do it again. We all know there are those who would risk all for a child, but would put their knife in the back of an adult." Temis idly tossed her skinning knife from one hand to the other, silver eyes looking distantly into the bonfire. Her voice was soft, that of someone who spoke little, but listened quite well. Barely audible over the pop of crimson flames, it nevertheless held the attention of those seated in the circle. A light wind caressed pale skin, tossing midnight blue hair into her eyes which she quickly brushed away. "I don't trust them. We've come this far not having one of her kind within our fold."

Gretta rolled her eyes, shifting her weight a bit on the log she had seated herself upon. Rich chocolate hair framed a heart-shaped face that was reddened from many hours over a cooking fire, and her voluptuous curves spoke equally of good food and maternal caring. "I don't believe this one is like the others, Temis. Tanner knows right well that she had every right to let him die. He saw it in her eyes." Her hands came up as the huntress whirled on her. "Oh, I've given him a piece of my mind already, lass. Wandering off like that, which he only did because you couldn't keep your mouth shut. My boy always has looked up to you, and you know this. I place part of our troubles on you." Amber eyes narrowed as her arms crossed over her breasts. "That girl, or woman, responded when he spoke her language. She responded even before then. I may just be a mother who is grateful to have her child safe and sound, but I'm not one to throw someone out into the cold when they are wounded."

"We have more trouble than just a sickly girl using up our food and drink." Temis frowned as Gretta tsk'ed, but both fell silent as a third woman spoke up. Zenixia shook her head, the small bells wound in silver cord through her horns matching the musical voice. "It has been a week, sister. This girl has not woken, or even stirred. I can barely stave off the infection that is coursing through her body." Charms around her slender wrists added a soft melody to the draenei's shrug. "Food and water are not what she needs. Not when she walks with such a troubled mind and beaten heart."

Zenixia stood, her hooves pressing lightly into the soft grass that sprang up beneath her while she had been sitting. "What she needs is rest. Good rest." Her pale eyes went to the three reclining felines beside her. "Ry'lien has spent many nights working to ease her... it doesn't work. In some ways..." The woman held out her hands in a gesture of surrender as Ry'lien shifted, revealing a lithe and feral female. Violet hair matched violet skin, her silver eyes marred by a slight sheen of emerald. When she spoke, it was as if within their minds, though her lips moved.

"Someone has walked her paths... they torment her, lead her to believe she is never safe. It is perhaps as she believes it to be. Her body is worn from lack of good sleep... I have no doubts that even the Dreamer has very rarely seen this one within her domain." Ry'lien paused, her lengthy ears twitching for a moment as another breeze played with their hair. "I feel the same as Zenixia. In some ways, she is much like you were after your mate perished, Temis." The druid ignored the glare from the huntress. "Skittish, worried. There is much on her mind that keeps her from resting, even if that presence had not played with her security. However," She looked at the two fellow felines, "I do not believe she is a runaway slave. A slave of sorts, yes. Possibly more."

"Indeed. I am not nearly as versed in matters of the arcane as my sibling, but the collar our guest wears reeks of magic. Enchantment and weaving. The metal itself is common. Only iron. The craftmanship is impeccable. We are either dealing with the property of a very wealthy individual, or a very powerful one. Neither of which are exactly good for us."

"I not see problem." There was a flash of light as a portal closed behind the newest female, her accent thick. Dark skin contrasted against snowy hair, and robes of purple and black hugged a curved yet youthful figure. "Familiar, this one. Not the elf, but the weaving. The work, too."

Temis snorted, her arms crossing as eyes narrowed at the draenei mageling. "Trust a whore to know the business."

Eleda ignored her, and continued. "I wander far, but stay near the human city when I can. There is man there who drinks often at that pub near the warlock's sect." There was a pause as the mageling embraced Zenixia. "I feel that man and his weaving."

"Probably have felt more than just that, demon-whore." Temis spat.

"What's wrong, huntress?" Eleda grinned, her pointed teeth showing plainly. "Your companion leave his bitch to mate elsewhere?"

"That is enough, Temis." Actions and words halted completely at the tone of voice from the final figure seated around the fire. Her form robed in white with silver trim that accentuated heavy breasts, Una'lei looked every part of the pious follower of Elune that she was. "I have listened to each of you for many hours now. Even now, Elune watches over us and our senseless bickering." Slender fingers gestured to the sky, where a full and heavy moon shone into the glade. "We have many things to wonder about with our guest... many things indeed."

Gretta stood, but was silenced before she could speak by a shake of the ancient elf's head. Snow-drift white hair fell in waves around her face, falling to her shapely rear. "Hush now, Gretta. I have made my choice. This child will remain with us until she is well. Under our care, she will recover, this much I know." Gentle features turned in a slight frown as she continued. "I need to know more. As much as each of you can tell me. Gretta, I'm afraid I will have to negate what your son desires, although you know I care for him as if he was my own."

Silver eyes looked to each of them before she spoke again, her tone low. Fingers tapped against her lips as she looked to the fire, as she had done for the many hours this had taken. "Tell me what you know of the collar, Eleda. What do you know of this particular male?"

The mageling shrugged lightly. "Little I know, Lady Lei. The man spends much time in drink. In the company of dark arts, he sees what he is shown through twisted glass. Rumors speak of a family, once. Accompanied by a silent healer he doesn't seem to enjoy much." Her fingers went to her neck. "Weaving is difficult to determine as well. I am not strong in the arcane. Not like this. What little I do recognize is familiar to collars for obedience. For... tracking."

"He could follow us, then."

"Yes, Lady Lei." Eleda nodded. "I can guess, only. Assuming he can follow. Possibility that he would not, however." She gestured to Zenixia. "Broken spirit lends me to believe the collar is perhaps more a reminder than a tool. Though if he is angry..."

Zenixia nodded, and sighed. "The scars beneath the collar. I understand now. An obedience collar of even the slightest would have a punishment built in. He may be able to control it. A collar like this tells me she is free roaming. It serves as a painful reminder, perhaps for breaking an agreement."

"Then why let her wander at all?" Temis was looking back at the flames, her head tilted slightly. "I don't understand that."

"Whatever the reason, it explains why I am not able to fight the disease consuming her as well as I can with one who is able to heal." The shaman looked to her sibling, her head shaken. "If the punishment keeps her from healing, or keeps her weak, then he may be killing her without knowing it at all. For all we know, he could be able to tell she is not completely healthy. He could be sending her reminders, thinking she is ignoring him. Trying to get her to return to him for care."

"But she is not." Eleda nodded, seeming to catch on. "Lady Lei, I would like permissions. Find this man, and make a trade." Una'lei glanced at the mageling, seeming to look through her.

"Take Temis. No harm is to come to either of you, unless he is violent. Make an arrangement, if possible. Use whatever tactics you must. Explain what you must." The priestess looked to Temis, sighing softly. "Do not fall out of contact. If nothing can be resolved... call on me. I cannot allow this to continue so long as she is under our care."

Eleda smiled, a hand brushing through the air and leaving a tear within it. Temis nodded, turning and stepping through the rift without another word, the mageling following quickly. The flash of light came again as the portal closed.

"Ry'lien, Zenixia... I need you to work with eachother to heal her. Let me know if anything changes. For better, or worse." The two slipped away, Ry'lien shifting back to the massive feline. Zenixia kept up easily with the quick pace as the two faded into the darkness of the woods. "Kitten, Terlon... you are swifter than many of our steeds. I do not like asking such a thing, but I need speed. Find the twins. Take them to Silvermoon with instructions for recon. Find out what you can about our guest." Una'lei watched the remaining two felines rise and stretch before they too left.

"What about me, Lei?" Gretta stood, her hands on her hips. Una'lei smiled, rising as well. "Do what you are good at, Gretta. Worry for us all, and cook." Gretta grinned, wagging a finger. "Nonsense. I breed well, too!" The two laughed, leaving the glade together.

The fire was left alone, and as the hours passed and the sun rose, it died without complaint. Within the caravan, there was worry. Food was brought to one cart, as Ry'lien and Zenixia fought with their charge, bringing themselves to the point of exhaustion multiple times. Outside of the cart where Ashadel lay in fitful sleep, Tanner sat waiting...


End file.
